Killing Time
by Desperate Derelict
Summary: Starts near the end of Season 2. Excerpt: "The irony of the situation didn't escape her ... She'd avoided even a hint of a romantic liaison with Castle, because she didn't want to be a conquest. She didn't want to be used. She needed respect ... It would be funny if it wasn't so damned tragic."
1. The Bet

**INTRO: The 1st of my "Writing Wrongs" saga. As much as I love the Castle characters; there are quite a few 'bit' characters that impact the story line greatly, who I find unbelievable, or 'too good to be true', or I just wanted to mess with. Demming. Josh. Gina. Martha. Lanie. So I modified them, a lot, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. These stories are the result. This one is about Demming. Begins near the end of season 2, and will go through the summer and beyond. **

**REQUEST: Please feel free to read and comment on any of my fanfics. Hint: '_Forsaken_' is my best story .**

**Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are the result of the fertile mind of Andrew H Marlowe, owned by AHM &amp; ABC Studios, and brought to life brilliantly by Nathan Fillion, Stana Katic, **_**et al. **_**I don't own them, I only abuse them.**

**WEDNESDAY, APRIL 28TH**

_(145 days prior to the incident)_

Detective Tom Demming sauntered into the third floor meeting room, greeting his teammates from the 12th Precinct's Robbery Division. As he grabbed an empty chair, an older teammate, Detective Andy Boling, leaned forward and murmured, "Hey, Tom, word has it that today in the gym you were swapping sweat with the ice queen from homicide."

Demming leered at the older detective. "Perhaps, Andy, if you'd ever drag your fat ass into the gym, you could have witnessed our grappling yourself."

"Grappling? I heard it was a little grab ass, combined with her whopping your big butt."

"First of all, if you weren't so old and blind, you'd realize I do NOT have a big butt. Secondly, I'm happy to admit that it got a little physical, and I've gotta tell you that is one _smokin' hot_ cop. Third, aren't you getting tired of living your fantasies vicariously through my sex life?"

"Demming, you can tell me how _not_ to have sexual fantasies **only** after _you've_ been married thirty years. Until then, mind your own business, and I'll mind both of ours." Boling glanced around at the other men in the room, and dropped his voice even lower. "So, is the Romeo of Robbery going to go after this little slice of homicide heaven?"

Demming snorted. "Homicide Heaven? Seriously?"

Apparently they weren't being quiet enough, because another from their team, the young black detective sitting next to them, overheard and joined the conversation, commenting "Are you all talking about Beckett from upstairs? She _is_ smokin' hot. I had her in my academy class. Everyone went after her, even the teachers, and everyone struck out. Half the cadets thought she was a frigid bitch, and the other half thought she was a lesbo."

Demming faked being outraged, and responded quietly, "Detective Laurence! You are talking about a fellow NYPD Detective! For shame!"

Laurence smiled at the other two men, and said "Okay, Demming. Fine by me! How about our standard bet? I've got twenty bucks that says you can't tap that."

Boling added quickly, "I'm in."

Demming shook his head. "No way, guys. This one will cost you. The price is two hundred dollars, and I get a month to close the deal."

"A month!" Boling blurted, loud enough to draw some stares from others in the room. He glared at everybody looking until they turned back around, then lowered his voice back to his half whisper. "Lacking a little confidence there, Romeo?"

"Guys, you've never had me go after anyone this tough. This isn't some airheaded civilian impressed with the badge, or a frisky working girl. It'll take money, and it'll take time. Take it or leave it."

Laurence and Boling looked at each other, and then smiled. Laurence answered, "Okay, Demming, you've got a bet. One month from today, and we want pictures! Good pictures!"

Deming smiled. "Of course, guys. As always, that's part of the Deal."

They all shook hands as the head of Robbery, Lieutenant Menneke , hustled into the room. "Sorry I'm late, gentlemen. I got hung up by Captain Montgomery. Okay, first order of business. The hot shots in homicide have run into a tough one, and are requesting some help. So, for the next week or so, our very own Detective Demming will be showing homicide how real cops operate." The Lieutenant looked at Demming and added, "They're waiting for you upstairs Tom, so you might as well go ahead and take off."

Demming stood up and started to make his way out of the room, as all of the other men in the room started to heckle him unmercifully. As he left, Laurence turned to Boling and bitched, "Shit, Andy, I think we've been had."

Boling nodded, grimacing. After a minute he brightened and said, "Oh, hell, the bets not over! Like he said, she'll be tough. Anyway. have you seen her lately? Even if we lose, the pictures should be well worth it!"

**Writing Wrongs:**_** Asked my twenty-something year old daughters and their friends to guess the back-story behind a good looking 33 year old male, straight, professional, very nice, well-spoken, and had never been married. The most popular opinions were that he was probably self-absorbed, had commitment issues, maybe major personality flaws, and/or was a 'player'. So, meet the new Tom Demming.**_


	2. Planning Invites

**TUESDAY, MAY 18TH**

_(125 days prior to the incident)_

Demming lay awake, thinking hard. He was wondering if winning the bet he'd made with his fellow robbery detectives was the smart thing to do. It wasn't because he couldn't win the bet; he was confident he could get the pretty homicide detective in his bed in the next week. However, he was beginning to think that it would be a tactical error to nail Beckett. In order to stay on her good side, he'd have to embark on a more serious relationship than he'd originally planned. He was against long term relationships in general, finding them confining and boring. When he'd made the bet, he'd had no idea how much he would like working with the temperamental detective. More importantly, he could see a future path for himself working in homicide, specifically on her team.

Demming was ambitious. His Mom's brothers were all high powered New York cops – including an Assistant Chief and a Captain over in Brooklyn. His dream job had always been Chief of Detectives – or "COD". Every COD in the past forty years had spent at least some time working in homicide. If he could convince Beckett to allow him to join the best homicide team in the city, he'd be a long way towards punching his COD ticket. The big question was: would it be better to join the team as Beckett's lover or as her friend?

However, right now, that wasn't his biggest concern. No, the biggest problem was Castle. Castle was taking the place of a real working cop on the best homicide team in the city. He knew the writer really liked Beckett, and was surprised Castle had given him the green light to pursue her. He also could tell that, at least some of the time, Beckett really liked Castle. He'd managed to drive a wedge between the two during the cases they worked, but it wasn't a permanent solution. Demming grinned to himself. He'd frequently managed to convince Beckett to treat Castle as the tag-along he was, instead of the partner he wanted to be, sometimes without her even realizing it. However, the man kept coming back. He was extremely resilient. Demming was actually surprised at how even-tempered and good natured the rich guy seemed to be.

At least some of the time, the novelist seemed to be considered a full-fledged member of Beckett's team. Certainly, Esposito and Ryan thought of him that way. To Demming, that was sheer stupidity. If the guy wasn't NYPD, he shouldn't be allowed to hang around. Period. End of story. If he really wanted to be a cop, he could go to the academy, and take his lumps on the street. Otherwise, he should disappear.

Demming didn't like him, at all. He was rich, arrogant, and acted like he was God's gift to the 12th. He did, however have a grudging respect for the man, which only made matters worse. Some of the stories he'd heard pointed to Castle being smart, brave, and lucky – a terrific combination for any line of work, but especially helpful to a homicide investigator. Plus, if half the pictures and stories in the newspaper were true, the man had a way with the ladies, and got his full share of 'strange'. A man after Demming's own heart. That made him a credible threat to take his place. The question was, what was he after? What would it take to make him go away? How long was he planning on hanging around Beckett's homicide squad, taking the place of a real cop?

Could the _'Civie Sissy'_ have fallen for Beckett? Did he actually think he had a shot at the sexiest cop on the force? And if that was the case, why would Castle have given him the green light to chase her? An old-fashioned sense of chivalry? Demming mentally blew a raspberry. Anybody who didn't play to win deserved to lose. Or maybe he was over-confident in his own ability to ensnare Beckett, or didn't believe that Demming could bag the 'big game'? Maybe he thought bringing her coffee could compete with being a working detective? Demming smiled – what an ass!

So, his answers to his problems just seemed to fall into place. Demming would pursue Beckett, all guns blazing. He'd do everything possible to undermine the homicide detective's relationship with the novelist. He'd make Castle's life at the precinct as uncomfortable as possible. He'd make sure Castle spotted them when they were publicly displaying affection. If he was right, that had begun to bother the guy. He'd also try to get under the guy's skin as much as possible. With any luck, Demming would get the man to do something stupid – maybe even throw a punch! That would be awesome! Regardless, he should be able to chase the dilettante novelist out of the precinct by the summer. He could then put in his request for transfer, and make sure his uncles would grease the skids with Montgomery.

Yeah, he'd start hinting to Kate tomorrow about the bed and breakfast on the beach in New Jersey. If he could get her away for the long weekend that was coming, he was positive in his ability to make her forget Castle's name. Hell, with what he had planned, he'd make her forget her own name! Once he was on the team, he'd be able to control their affair, maybe back off to try to keep it professional. There were regs against team members having a relationship, and Beckett didn't seem to be the type that would ignore the rules. This could really, really work! He wouldn't want to deprive the fine ladies of New York City of his services any longer than necessary. Satisfied, Demming rolled over and fell fast asleep.

* * *

Castle looked into his glass of scotch, and sighed. He'd managed to bang out a couple of chapters of the latest Heat book, but was unhappy with the tone and content. His major problem was he was distracted. Distracted and worried.

It seemed that his muse, the ineffable Detective Beckett, had found herself a new boyfriend. Not that there was anything wrong with that – he himself had a fling with an actress last month. Although the subject of countless fantasies, he realized that Beckett had not shown the slightest interest in him romantically. Friend? Yes. Partner? Sometimes. Nemesis? Occasionally. Foil? Endlessly. However, no romance was likely in the foreseeable future. She couldn't seem to get past her first impression of him, which was partially his own damn fault. He'd been too much the rich playboy and spoiled brat when they'd first met. Of course, he still liked to subtly harass her sexually, but that was all in good fun. She just took it and gave it back, innuendo of the highest order.

His worry was that this new boyfriend was a cop, and was totally undermining Castle's status on Beckett's homicide team. Demming had been involved to some degree in three of the last four cases. Each time had resulted in Castle being bumped from the interrogation room, scrambling for rides to and from crime scenes and suspect homes, and in general being ignored. Demming didn't hide his disdain for a 'civie' on a homicide team, and went out of his way to disparage Castle. The new couple's PDA's were becoming more frequent and intense (who'd have guessed that about Kate?), and Demming showed him no respect whatsoever.

Castle was a proud man. He was especially proud of the place he'd carved out in the 12th Precinct. His status there had less to do with his fame and fortune, and was more the result of patience, perseverance, his love of mysteries, and his keen mind. His staying there, despite the brutal hours, terrible conditions, and recent abuse, had everything to do with his near-worship of Detective Kate Beckett. It had taken him months to figure out how to handle the mercurial Beckett. All of that progress seemed to be dissolving right before his eyes.

He thought of saying something to Beckett, but he certainly didn't want to sound like he was whining. She had a right to her own private life, and calling Demming out on his antagonism would not endear him to Beckett. Hell, she was the city's best detective; she had to know what was going on. He'd have to suck it up, and hope the Demming train would quickly run its course. Maybe he'd invite Kate out to the Hampton's next weekend with Alexis and him – reinvest in the friendship. That idea had a lot of merit.

With that last thought, he put down the empty glass, and went to bed.


	3. Reset the Game

**WEDNESDAY, MAY 26TH**

_(117 days prior to the incident)_

Castle and Detective Kate Beckett were examining the murder board, sitting side by side on her desk. Beckett shook her head. "You know, it used to be if you were gonna have a midlife crisis, you'd just buy a Ferrari, get a new girlfriend, even jump out of a plane. "

Castle glanced at her, then back to the board. "Shot in the park, money in his car. Makes you wonder what else he did to get his jollies."

She nodded. "Now that we know who he really is, I've asked Esposito to look into his financials. Maybe we'll see a red flag somewhere."

The handsome Robbery Detective entered the homicide department's bullpen and began to walk towards the desk, where Rick noticed his approach and greeted him with absolutely no enthusiasm. "Speaking of red flags. Hey, Demming."

Detective Tom Demming frowned. "Hey, Castle" he responded automatically, both greeting him and dismissing him. Beckett stood and took the two steps needed to stand in between the two, right in front of Demming. He lowered his voice, but made sure he was still loud enough for Castle to overhear. "So, you know that little place in Asbury I was telling you about, around the corner from our beach house?"

Beckett nodded her head. "Mm-hmm".

Demming continued in a soft voice, "Well, they just had a reservation open up on Friday. If we leave early enough we can probably make it."

Beckett dropped her head and whispered, "Yeah, um… will you let me check into it?"

Tom Demming smiled and nodded. "Great. I'll see you later." He pivoted and went back the way he came. As soon as he was out of sight, his smile broadened and he pumped his fist. Hah! Take that, Writer Boy.

Beckett could feel the blood leave her face, pooling at her feet. She was mortified; she couldn't ever remember being this embarrassed. She had deflected Castle's Hampton weekend invite for the weekend by lying about work, so that she would avoid this exact situation. She had turned down his invitation because she desperately wanted to maintain the status quo – it was WAY too much fun having the writer as her trusty shadow to risk any change in their relationship. She turned around to face the music.

"Beach House?" asked Castle, smirking . "Thought you were working this weekend."

"Yeah, I'm sorry Castle, I shoulda just told you." She broke eye contact to move over to her chair. She tried to explain. "I just didn't want things to be… awkward between us… now that Tom and I are… together."

Castle internally winced at the word 'together'. Seeing the relationship between Beckett and Demming continue to flourish over the last week, he'd went ahead and extended the Hampton invite to Beckett for the weekend. Nope, she wasn't available, said she was working. Except she wasn't. He refused to let any feelings show, resorting to his best poker face. "No, I get it, yeah." It was obvious she had chosen, and he'd come up short. It looked like Demming was going to become a permanent fixture around the homicide squad. "No, you want your private life to be private." The more he thought about it, the more disheartened he became. It was becoming increasingly obvious that, regardless of what he did, he would never measure up in Kate's eyes. Never be treated as a full partner. The last month he'd been demoted to fifth wheel time and again.

"Yeah, I… I just don't … I don't want anyone to feel uncomfortable."

"No, of course not." Uncomfortable? Try dejected and rejected, with a major sprinkling of anger. She had lied … actually lied … to him. Two failed marriages had taught him that once the lying starts, the future was extremely tentative. It was time to cut his losses and bow out with whatever dignity he could maintain. "No, I mean… actually, that makes what I was gonna say a little easier. Um, well, with my book due, I was thinking it'd be a good time for us to take a break."

"A break?" She was used to Castle mental gymnastics, but even for him this came out of left field.

His poker face firmly in place, Castle started to sell his story. "Yeah. Well, God knows you gotta be tired of me following you around all the time, and I really need to get some work done. With everyone gone, I figure, why not just stay up in the Hamptons, you know? Get away from the city for a while." Yep. Time to hit the reset button on this game.

"Well, for how long?" Where the hell was this coming from?

"The summer … at least. I thought this would be our last case."

Beckett broke eye contact immediately, swinging her chair around to face her desk. She was speechless with shock, experiencing an overwhelming sense of loss. Her shadow, her companion, her verbal sparring partner, leaving? No morning latte, no building theory, no inappropriate banter at crime scenes, no teasing in the car? These were the things she had come to look forward to when coming to work every morning.

Ryan and Esposito came up to her desk with the bus station surveillance information, but she couldn't focus enough to listen. She was just realizing how thoroughly Castle had insinuated himself on to her team, into her daily life. She dimly remembered the early days, when a day without Castle was always welcome. Now, a day absent Castle's diversions seemed extra-long and boring. If he missed two or three days in a row it was a crappy week. But a summer with no Castle on her team? That shaped up to be abysmal trending towards totally shitty.

Damn! Damn! Damn! This sucked! Was he really worried about being behind on his book, or had she royally fucked up by lying to him? The boys stopped talking, having verified that the victim had removed the briefcase from the locker, something they already knew. She thanked them perfunctorily, puzzling them. They asked, "Don't you want to know who put it there?"

She mentally shook herself, and tried to refocus her attention on the case. They handed her a photograph of the guy from Spy Venture, the victim's handler, and once more her team was off and running. Everything else could wait. The job came first.

**Writing Wrongs:**_** I've always thought the fact that Beckett lied was glossed over by the show. It wasn't a little white lie, either. That will be addressed in the next chapters. **_


	4. Wake-up Call

**A/N: Reminder - **_**Rated T for a reason. Bad words (Cops swear, it's what they do) and adult subject matter. **_

**THURSDAY, MAY 27TH**

_(116 days to the incident)_

They had successfully wrapped up the case. Both she and Castle had independently come up with the idea that the spy game was just a red herring. The widow and partner had alibied each other in the most absurd way possible, but Castle and Ryan discovered an anomaly in the victim's finances. That had led them to the victim's girlfriend, which in turn led them to her husband. Game. Set. Match.

This win for the team felt different, though. Less fun. Sad, actually. The survivors were all culpable, to one degree or another. Montgomery had said it best. "It's sad that a man died because too many people couldn't be honest with their feelings". That had hit so close to home, especially after the lie she had told Castle last week. She had to make it up to him sometime tomorrow before he took off for the summer.

Normally, when they finished a case, there was a feeling of closure, a warm and fuzzy aura derived from doing a good job. They usually went out for a celebratory drink, but all of her partners had declined this time. Immediately after they turned their murderer over to booking, Castle had abruptly left, pleading a 'million things to do'. The boys had been surly all day, and Ryan split right after Castle, without saying his customary 'good night' to Kate. Esposito was looking something up on the computer, and she could practically see the dark cloud hanging over the Latino detective's head.

She turned towards the murder board and started to disassemble their work. Why was everyone so down tonight? Even Demming was a little pissed off, as she had declined his invitation to sleep over tonight thinking she'd be out with her team celebrating. She was so absorbed in her task and in her thoughts; she didn't hear Esposito approach until he started speaking. "Hey, Beckett" Kate turned to face him, a little startled. He continued, "I'm gonna take-off."

"Okay, Esposito. Good job today. I'll see you tomorrow."

Esposito started to walk away, then turned around after a couple of steps. "Listen, Beckett. Ryan and I thought we'd throw Castle a little surprise going away party tomorrow. It'll just be a couple of beers in the break room to say thanks for the two years, and nice knowin' ya. Around 4:30. We invited Lanie and the Captain to join us." Here Esposito's voice changed, from a matter-of-fact invitation to a tone of derision. "Maybe, if you're not _too_ busy, you could stop by. You know, to say 'nice knowing ya" and 'thanks for the memories'." He spun around to leave.

"ESPOSITO!" Beckett's bark stopped her partner in his tracks. She marched to right in front of him, and stuck her face six inches from his. "What in the HELL is THAT supposed to mean?!"

Esposito didn't flinch. "It means exactly what it sounds like, Beckett. Look! I get it! It's your team, you can do what you want. But we never thought you'd kick our boy Castle to the curb. So, to be honest, I really have no idea if you'd want to say goodbye to him or not. It's hard to tell if you give a shit any more."

Beckett looked around. There were only one or two cops left on the floor, but she didn't need to air her team's dirty laundry in public. "Follow me, Detective." Beckett's tone of voice made it clear it was not a request, as she led Esposito to a small meeting room and shut the door behind them. The walk of thirty feet gave her time to rein in her shredding temper. She turned to face her pissed off partner. "I have no idea where you're coming from, Javier. Of course I want to say goodbye to Castle, he's leaving for three whole months. He's been my shadow for almost two years. As annoying as he was early on, more and more he's become an integral part of our team. It probably sounds condescending, but I'm as proud of him as I am of you and Ryan. He's, **we've**, come a long way. So I don't know where this 'kick him to the curb' shit is coming from. He's leaving to get some writing done, and once the book is completed, we'll get him back. Right?"

Esposito stared at her while shaking his head. He finally sighed and pointed to a stuffed chair, requesting "Kate, take a seat, please." The use of her first name diffused any residual temper as she lowered herself onto the chair. He sat opposite her, and grimaced. "Did you know that, since the Tisdale case, we've handled ninety-four cases? I looked it up tonight."

Beckett nodded. "That sounds about right."

"With the multiples and serials, that's about 125 bodies. That's not counting the 15 or 20 cases that weren't ours, just peripheral cases we solved when working ours. Now, of those 94 cases, we've closed 89 of them. Of the five remaining, one was taken over by the feds and left open here, one the murderer croaked before he was charged, and one the chicken-shit DA won't prosecute. That's two unsolved out of 94."

Beckett eyes sharpened. "And we're still working those two cases, right?". She knew those two cases backwards and forwards, as did her whole team. She talked to the families weekly.

Esposito agreed. "Yes. We're still working those two cases, out of ninety-four."

Beckett finally smiled. "What do you want me to say? We're the best!"

"Kate, we are so far beyond the best, it's ridiculous. Nobody's EVER come close to this level, or sustained it as long. We're twice as good as the next best team, who do all the Special Victims crap out of the 133rd. We are the Michael Jordan led Chicago Bulls. We are the two thousand pound gorilla."

"Okay, Javier, I get it, we are the best thing to happen to the NYDP since the invention of handcuffs. What's your point? Why have you guys been so pissed off?"

"Kate, if we're so freaking good, why are we saying goodbye to our civilian consultant … and friend … and YOUR partner? Don't kid yourself, he's not leaving because he's behind on his book. The dude is ALWAYS behind on his book. He's leaving 'cause he doesn't feel welcome. If we're so freaking good, why did I have to spend ten minutes today talking Ryan out of requesting a transfer? "

Kate blanched, her head spinning. "Kevin wants off the team? Why?"

"Because our boss has decided, without consulting her partners, to fuck with our team. She's decided she prefers to have her boyfriend in interviews, in her car, and at her desk, at the expense of her partner. She's decided that it's okay to act like a horny high school girl here at the precinct, especially if Castle's around!"

"What are you talking about?"

"What were you and Demming doing in the back corridor this afternoon?"

"You saw that?"

"I didn't have to. I saw Castle's face when he came back from there, right before he walked out. What were you guys doing in Interrogation on Monday at lunch?"

"What the hell, Esposito, are you following us?"

"No. Ryan and Castle were having their lunch in observation, since you'd taken off to eat with Captain America without telling anybody."

At least Beckett looked a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Espo. This is all really new to me, dating a guy at work and stuff. I had no idea anybody was in there."

Esposito jumped up, his eyes blazing. "BULLSHIT! Demming ASKED ME where Castle was BEFORE you went in there to swap spit." He looked disgusted. "Did you know that for the last three weeks, after Castle stops for your fancy latte, he hits the ATM so he has enough cash for cabs, so he doesn't get stranded again."

"Oh c'mon, Esposito, that happened like once."

He stared at her boss, flabbergasted. "More like once a day. Hell, Demming wasn't even working this last case, and you left Castle high and dry at the crime scene, and again here Tuesday night."

She looked totally confused. "I asked. I thought everybody was already gone."

"Who'd you ask?"

Beckett thought about it, and didn't like the answer, or the conclusions she was coming to.

Esposito was on a roll, and started to pour it on. "If all that's not bad enough, you start locking Castle out of interrogations 'cause he's not a cop? Since when has that mattered? You ridicule his theories as impractical, and dismiss him like a servant to go fetch you two coffee? And now you think he's leaving because he's behind on his writing, and he'll be back after that? Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

Beckett dropped her head in her hands. "Damn. I had no idea I was being such an asshole." She looked up at her partner with troubled eyes. "Why didn't anybody tell me?"

"Tell you what? That Castle was getting hazed by Demming worse than any uppity rookie we've ever seen? That all the jokes at his expense were over the top? At first we thought Castle had screwed up somehow, and you were teaching him a lesson. The last few days, though, it's gotten a lot worse. Your asshole boyfriend wasn't even on this case, and he was still fucking with Castle. In the break room. Out front. So, we figured you wanted a new partner, and were trading down."

"Trading down? For the record, I do not want to replace Castle. With anyone. Demming is only an extra set of eyes and ears. And what's with this trading down shit, Espo? I thought you liked Tom?"

"I have NEVER said I liked the dude. We were involved in a couple of heavy firefights when we were with ESU, so that makes us brothers in arms. Survivors, you know? Outside of work, I've always thought he was kind of a sleaze."

Beckett shook her head. "So, is that why Ryan was thinking about leaving? Because he thought I was replacing Castle with Demming?" She thought about what that switch would be like, and didn't think it would be nearly as effective ... or fun ... or desirable.

Esposito nodded, finally calming down. He resumed his seat. "Yeah, you know how he worships Castle. I'm always giving him grief about being such a fan girl. This crap's been hard for me to watch lately, so it's been twice as bad for Kevin." He leveled an intimidating stare at his boss. "Then, Castle asked Kevin Tuesday if he got stuck working this weekend like you did. Ryan KNEW you were off this weekend. He covered for you, but feels really shitty about it." His stare intensified. "You better hope Castle doesn't find out."

Beckett swallowed. "He already did. Yesterday."

Esposito nodded at her. "You told him? That's good. Wait." He looked at Beckett's stricken expression and asked, "Isn't it? What?"

"Tell me, Javier, was Demming there when Castle asked Ryan about the weekend?"

"Um. I guess. Yeah. It was at the coffee machine. Why?"

"Jesus Christ." She felt sick. "Tom let it slip yesterday that he and I are going to the beach this weekend. Right in front of Rick. I thought it was inadvertent."

Esposito blew up! "Holy Shit, Beckett! You see what he's doing, don't you?" He stood again, pointed, and yelled "Beckett, How could you be so fucking clueless?"

He could see a huge flare of anger in her eyes, but didn't care. He took a deep, calming breath, and continued at about half the volume, his voice tight. "You still think Castle is coming back? Listen. I don't care how you do it. I don't even know if you CAN do it. But you fix this, Beckett. I am not going to lose my partner because you decided to think with your gonads." Esposito spun around and walked out of the room, banging the door closed behind him.

**Writing Wrongs:**_** I've always thought Esposito and Beckett had more of brother - sister relationship than boss - subordinate or partners. My brothers and I grew up with five sisters, so trust me ... sometimes you need to yell at a sister. A lot. Repeatedly.**_


	5. Self Reflection

**FRIDAY, MAY 27TH - Morning**

_(115 days prior to the incident)_

Kate sat alone at her desk, having once again arrived earlier than anyone else on dayshift. She despondently contemplated the stack of paperwork awaiting her, the remnants of the Spy Venture case. Although the endless forms at the conclusion of a case were never much fun, she'd always tolerated the work as a necessary evil, and prided herself on her diligence and thoroughness in cataloging a case. No defendant had ever been acquitted or won an appeal due to sloppy documentation from her team.

Today she just didn't care. She'd gone straight home last night after the confrontation with Esposito. She'd removed her makeup, changed into her pajamas, and poured herself a large glass of wine. She sat on her couch and mentally reviewed the last month as objectively as possible. Her conclusions were devastating. After Esposito's revelations, which she believed whole heartedly, there was only one conclusion possible. She'd been totally played by Demming.

She'd realized a month ago that there was no love lost between Demming and Castle. She'd attributed most of their problems to Castle's huge ego, always demanding to be the center of attention. Demming reinforced that idea every chance he got. He was always sharing with her snide comments about Castle's lack of training, or disparaging her partners' clothes or haircut or lifestyle. She figured some of it was Tom's jealousy over the successful novelist's wealth, even though Castle was careful not to show off his money. The very few times Castle had left early for a meeting or a meal with Alexis, Demming drew attention to his lack of stamina and commitment. Looking back, she realized how wrong and mean-spirited a lot of it was.

Based on everything Esposito said, Demming had been trying to get rid of Castle from the start. Damn! Make that trying and maybe succeeding. How could she have been so blind? It was like looking at some optical illusion drawing that had a face hidden within a picture. Once you saw the face, you couldn't stop seeing the face all the time. Once she realized Demming's ulterior motives, everything that had happened in the past month looked totally different. Demming hadn't even been subtle about his attempts to frustrate and humiliate Castle. At the time, she'd appreciated him volunteering to take his two-seater Mustang so she wouldn't have to drive. She'd enjoyed flirting with him as she tried to build theory. It had felt natural when he invited himself into private interrogations or to question suspects. He always seemed to suggest grabbing a quick bite when no one else was around, unlike Castle, whose invitations always included the rest of the team. As the relationship got more physical, it was exciting to find secluded private spots around the precinct. Except, it seemed they were anything but private. All of it designed to drive Castle away, get him to quit. The sheer volume of crap Castle had taken this past month was staggering. Castle, being the supportive partner, hadn't complained very much, nor too loudly. Then, she had lied about this weekend, and Demming had thrown her under the bus.

She hadn't been in any kind of serious relationship since Will Sorenson had left her for a better opportunity a few years ago. That was partially because she didn't want to get hurt anymore, partially because she worked so much and had such weird hours that meeting decent guys was almost impossible, and partially because she was so bad at picking good men. She had a terrible track record with the guys she tried to date. Most were too impressed with themselves, or had a screw loose, or enjoyed an alternative life style, or were only interested in a quick roll in the hay. Her natural attraction to 'bad boys' certainly didn't help. She'd thought Demming was different. She'd been flattered by Demming's constant attention. She'd broken her ironclad rule about dating fellow cops because Tom seemed like a 'good' guy who could appreciate her work schedule, give her the respect she needed, yet had enough of that 'bad boy' mystique to be intriguing. Physically, he was extremely attractive, about the same level as Castle, which was saying something. She'd discovered he was a good, if not great, lover; with enough hint of 'kink' to be exciting.

So, for a few dinners and a couple of nights in the sack, she'd thrown away the best partnership she'd had since she worked with Mike Royce. She'd also damaged her relationship with her other partners, perhaps beyond repair. She'd succumbed to the charms of a manipulative asshole who was more interested in snaking his way on to her team then in her as a woman. She felt used. She felt stupid. She felt angry. More than anything, she felt deeply ashamed.

The irony of the situation didn't escape her. Even though Castle was attractive, smart, witty, wealthy, fun to be around, and sexy as hell, she'd avoided even a hint of a romantic liaison with him, because she didn't want to be a conquest. She didn't want to be used. She needed respect. She wanted to be appreciated as herself, not as just a homicide cop or a piece of ass. Unbelievable! It would be funny if it wasn't so god damned tragic. She finished her drink and went to bed, only to toss and turn all night.

Karpowski walking past her desk snapped her out of her reverie. She looked down at the blank form on her desk, and realized she wasn't going to get much done until she'd taken care of business. She had three extremely tough conversations today. She needed to talk to Demming without shooting him or doing anything else that would have her brought up on charges. She needed to apologize to Ryan, and reassure him that she was going to do everything possible to correct her mistakes. Worse than either of those, she needed to talk to Castle. Talk? Make that beg. Plead. Apologize. Grovel. Crawl.

Hell, she had no idea how to repair the harm she'd done, now that she knew the full extent of her failures. She was amazed at Castle's stoicism in the face of what he must have considered the worst kind of hazing. Some of their banter had been barbed in the past, but it had never been overtly cruel. Until recently. She now knew, more than anything, that she did not want to lose Castle. Not as a partner, and not as a friend. Definitely not for months, much less forever. Funny how shocking epiphanies always happened when it was too late. Suddenly and unexpectedly, Kate felt like all she wanted to do was lay her head on her desk and cry. This was shaping up to be a monumentally crappy day.


	6. First Shots

**FRIDAY, MAY 27TH - Morning**

_(115 days prior to the incident)_

Beckett was struggling with a form describing the Spy Venture initial interview when she heard a familiar voice. She looked up in surprise to see Castle talking to Esposito as they got off the elevator together. Esposito was chuckling as he settled into his seat, and Castle continued on towards Beckett. She looked down at his hands and was extremely disappointed to see just the one coffee for himself. She thought, 'Better get used to it, idiot. He's been spoiling you for a long time now.' She looked up to his eyes and put on the biggest smile she could muster. "Castle, what are you doing here so early?"

He reached in his inner coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. "Just needed to drop something off for the Captain."

"Oh. Hey, Castle, can we talk?"

"Sorry, Beckett, I'm going to have to take a rain check. I'm running Alexis down to Princeton, and according to her we are so-o-o-o-o-o late."

Beckett's smile widened. "Ah, yes, the summer program. Almost forgot. How's the new college girl's poor old Dad doing?"

Castle frowned and looked worried, and Beckett felt bad for him. "The jury's still out." He smirked, and lowered his voice secretively. "I'll be back for the boys 'surprise' party, so can we talk then?"

"Sure, Castle, that'll be great." As he turned away, she raised her voice and said, "Drive safe, and tell Alexis to have a great summer!"

Castle turned back and grinned before ducking into Montgomery's office for a second, then hurrying back to the elevators.

Beckett thought about the afternoon. It looked like she'd have just the one shot at convincing Castle to stay, or at least to come back. She noticed her palms sweating, and rubbed them on her thighs. Damn! She hated being put in this position. She reached for her phone.

* * *

Demming sat at his third floor desk in a great mood. He had no new cases, and he'd just received some terrific news. He'd heard from a reliable source, a rookie patrolwoman based upstairs that he'd been cultivating, that Castle was quitting today. That was sooner than even he'd hoped, and fit in great with his weekend plans. He was just starting to type up his formal transfer request to Beckett's team. He'd print it and drop it off at Montgomery's desk before he whisked Beckett off for their weekend. He planned to have a lot of fun with Beckett tonight and tomorrow and tomorrow night. She'd turned out to be an exciting and inventive lover. On Sunday, he could broach the idea of the two of them working together. They made a great team. He might then suggest they slow down their romance to keep it professional. She would probably follow his lead if he decided they needed to back off the relationship. She pretty much was a stickler for most regulations.

His phone buzzed, and he looked down to see Beckett's smiling face on his cell's screen. That made him think of some other pictures of Beckett he'd taken recently, and he smiled in his excitement. He scooped up the phone and swiped the 'accept' button. "Hey, Babe, ready for a great weekend?"

Silence. He looked at his phone to make sure they were still connected. "Kate?"

"Detective Demming, I would appreciate it if you would come upstairs and meet me in Interrogation Room One. The sooner the better."

Beckett's tone was so cold and impersonal it could freeze Hades. Demming knew that something happened, something bad, but didn't know what. He tried to get some more information while stalling. "Kate, I'm kind of tied up here. How soon do you need me? Why meet in Interrogation?"

"Demming, why don't you break away from whatever you're doing and meet me there in ten minutes. Not twelve, not eleven, but ten minutes. Don't worry, I'll make sure there's nobody in the Observation Room."

Well, he now knew two things. She'd figured out their little make-out session at lunch Monday had an audience, and he knew she was really pissed. "Okay, I'll be up in ten. It's eight-forty now. Anything I can bring?"

Click. She hung up. Uh-oh! This could be really bad, or it could be next to nothing. She could just be embarrassed by their command performance on Monday, but it sounded way worse than that. He needed more information, and an escape plan.

He saved his work on the computer, then retreated to an unused room over near the stairs. He looked up a number, and hit the call button. It rang once, then he heard "Hastings".

"Hi, Anne, it's Tom Demming."

"Oh, hi. What's up?"

"Are you busy."

"Nope. Just waiting for a warrant before we go dumpster diving for Karpowski's team. The joys of police work! What are you doing? Need another pretend date to trap a fence?"

"Hey, don't knock it, it worked, didn't it? No, I'm coming upstairs in a few, and wanted to know if there was anything going on I should know about?"

"Well, nothing now. It's all quiet. I already told you that Castle turned in his papers, right?"

"You said he was going to. I didn't know he had already come in this morning."

"Yep. Come and Gone. I guess you can't say the guy pulled his pin, 'cause he never had one. The only other rumor is about the same team. Seems like Esposito and Beckett got into it last night."

"Really? I'm surprised, they're pretty tight. How'd they get into it?"

"Oh, you know, nothing physical. Apparently there was a lot of yelling, mostly by Esposito, reading Beckett the riot act. Nobody heard what it was about. You gotta give the guy credit, I wouldn't have the balls to get into it with Beckett."

Demming chuckled. "Maybe he has a death wish."

"Maybe. Oh, hey! The warrants in. Gotta go."

"Okay Anne, thanks. Be safe out there."

Demming hung up, then dialed Boling. It rang five times and went to voice mail. Cursing, he hung up and dialed Laurence. He answered after the second ring. "Hey, Demming."

"Hi, Laurence. You screening your calls?"

"Yes, and if you say you have a case, you can forget it. I'm going fishing all weekend."

"Nope. Nothing like that. I do have a favor, though. You at your desk?"

"Yep."

"Listen. I need you to call me in exactly 7 minutes, right exactly at 8:54. Can you do that?"

"Sure. What did you step in this time?"

Demming certainly didn't want Laurence to know there was trouble with Beckett. "I have a sales meeting at 8:50. If I don't want what they're pitchin', I need an easy out."

"Okay. If it's a time share, save yourself the misery and skip the meeting."

"No, nothing like that. What time do you have now?"

"I've got 8:48 and 15 seconds. That right?"

"Perfect, buddy. Talk to you in six minutes." Demming hung up the phone, then took the steps two at a time to the 4th floor. He turned left and right, and just caught a glimpse of Beckett entering the Interrogation Room. He checked his watch. Thirty seconds left. He took a deep breath to steady himself. He'd already decided to play this meeting cool; be as non-confrontational as possible. With any luck, he could diffuse the whole situation. If not, he'd give Beckett the rest of the day to cool down.

He checked the observation room to ensure that it was empty, then entered the door Beckett had just gone though. He smiled and greeted her as he shut the door. "Good Morning, Sunshine! What's so all important that we had to meet so quickly, Kate?" He walked over as if to hug her, but she stood immobile, her posture stiff, and pointed at the chair. Not wanting to lose the high ground, he half-perched half-leaned on the corner of the table.

Beckett crossed her arms and glared at him. "Tell me, Detective Demming, did you see Rick Castle in the back hallway yesterday _before_ you decided to kiss me?"

Expecting a question about Monday's make-out session, Demming was caught off guard and hesitated half a second. It wasn't much, but more than enough for Beckett. He had to remind himself this was one of the best interrogators in the NYPD. So he shrugged and said, "Sure did."

"Is that why you kissed me?"

Demming's smile widened. "I kissed you because I wanted to. Having Castle see it was just an added bonus."

"Demming, why have you been trying to get rid of Castle?"

"I thought I was doing you a favor."

"A FAVOR?!"

"Yes, Kate, a favor. Aren't you the one that said his honor the mayor had 'saddled …' " Demming made quote marks with two fingers of both hands "… you with an 'annoying tag-along'? Didn't you complain about the grief you get for being Nikki Heat? Just a couple of weeks ago, while we were working the murder board, didn't you practically tell him to shut-up and go get us some coffee? Or are we talking about a different Richard Castle?"

"Yeah, and it's the same guy who has helped solve some pretty tough cases. The same guy who has saved my ass more than once."

"Who says a real cop wouldn't have helped you solve those same cases. He'd certainly be better prepared to help defend you."

"This is my team, Demming. Mine! You had no right to screw with my team."

"Kate, you needed plausible deniability. If the mayor or Montgomery asks Castle why he's leaving, he can't say it was because of you."

"Oh, really? So why did you throw me under the fucking bus yesterday about this weekend?"

Uh-oh! That was probably the reason she and Esposito had gotten into it last night. She knew that he knew that Castle didn't know about the weekend. Christ, life was complicated. He took another quick glance at his watch, the second in as many minutes. He spread out his arms, palms up. "I'm sorry. That was a mistake. I was excited about the restaurant and the weekend, and wasn't thinking."

"And it had the added bonus of pointing out to Castle that I'm a big fucking liar."

"No, Kate, I'm sorry. It was a mistake. Look. If it'll help, I'll talk to Castle, and straighten this out." Knowing the writer was gone, that was a pretty safe offer.

"No. Absolutely not! There is very short list of what might fix this fuck-up, and your name is nowhere near that list. As a matter of fact, you can consider this a privately issued restraining order. I don't want you anywhere near any member of my team. Ever. Or else."

Demming stared at Beckett, who was still glaring at him. After a few seconds he offered a tiny smile and said, "I'm probably going to be sorry I asked this, but I can't resist. Or else what?"

"You do not want to know." Beckett's flattest voice.

There wasn't even a trace of humor in her response. Demming could see the anger coursing through Beckett. In her stance, her eyes, her voice. Challenging anything she said now would be counter-productive to the max. He needed to diffuse the situation. "Okay, Kate, I get it. I over-stepped. I thought I was helping my girl with an impossible situation …" Right then his phone rang. Having set the ringer volume to its maximum, it stopped conversation immediately. Demming knew he was being saved by the bell, having seen Beckett's eyes widen in outrage at the term 'my girl'. He swiped the screen of his phone and announced "Demming".

Laurence said, "Eight Fifty-four and ten seconds. Am I good or what?"

Demming responded, "Yes sir, I'm on the way. What's the situation."

"The situation is that you owe me."

Demming started towards the door, then covered the phone and turned to Beckett. He whispered "We'll finish this this afternoon. Alright?" Without waiting for a response, he turned, swung the door open, and stepped through while asking "Were there any witnesses?"

Beckett walked into the hallway behind him, her arms still crossed. She stared holes in his back until he turned the corner. Six years in homicide had taught her that there were very few coincidences in this world. Demming was good, but she was better. Their next conversation was going to be ugly, one he'd remember for the rest of his life. And, he wouldn't be rescued by some bogus phone call.


	7. Reconciliation

**FRIDAY, MAY 27TH - Noon**

_(115 days prior to the incident)_

Beckett exited the elevator carrying a huge, white shopping bag with a logo on it. She stopped equidistant between Esposito's and Ryan's desks, where they couldn't help but smell the delicious aromas wafting from the bag. She asked, "Lunch, gentlemen?"

Ryan looked at the bag, than her, than the bag again. She could almost see him drooling. His voice seemed half an octave higher when he asked, "Is that really a bag of food from Mejlander &amp; Mulgannon Deli?"

"Yep."

"You drove all the way down to south Brooklyn for our lunch?"

"Yep."

"That's like my favorite place, ever. How did you know?"

"I'm a detective, Ryan. It's what I do." Actually, Castle had discovered this little tidbit, and shared it with her last month. Just another example of Castle's powers of observation. She ruthlessly squashed any further thoughts of her maybe ex-partner.

Esposito stood up, and announced "Enough talk. I'm starving." Ryan also stood, and they started towards the break room, but stopped when Beckett called to them.

"Guys, I reserved the conference room, so we wouldn't be disturbed." She walked the other way, followed by the two men, who exchanged a look. They entered the conference room, and Beckett started emptying the bag and scattering food around the table. "Let's see. Reuben sandwich, Corned Beef sandwich on pumpernickel, my Club, something called a Porchetta, beef brisket, plus three different soups, chips, and cookies. To drink all I got were three waters." She looked at Ryan and asked "What's a Porchetta? They seemed to know you and your entire family, and strongly recommended it."

Ryan smiled dreamily. "It's this pork that takes them all day to slow cook. They add all these spices to make it truly unique. It is to die for."

Esposito snorted. "To die for? I'm embarrassed to even know you, bro." He grabbed the Reuben and a water and sat down. "You've been hanging with your sisters too long, it's time for you to man up."

Ryan snagged the Porchetta sandwich, potato soup, chips, and a water and sat next to his partner. He unwrapped the sandwich. "You know, if you apologize, I might give you a tiny portion of this unsurpassed example of mouth-watering deliciousness . . . ." Ryan took a huge bite and said around a mouthful of food " … but I doubt it."

Beckett had taken a seat opposite the men, and started on her club sandwich. She swallowed before scolding "Chew your food and swallow, Ryan, or I'm going to tell your mother."

Esposito smiled at Beckett. "Gee, boss, I thought you were our mom. You yell at us. You feed us. You make us do our chores. You're our work mom!"

Beckett passed a tortilla soup to Esposito, then sampled her tomato basil. "See? Look! I'm ignoring you, Esposito." She turned to Ryan. "Wow, Kevin, this food is incredible. When I saw it was this little hole in the wall, I thought I might have the wrong place."

Ryan nodded. "Another major contribution to the quality of New York City life by my Irish brethren."

Silence descended as the three detectives got down to the serious business of eating lunch. Beckett looked upon the two men opposite her. God, she loved these guys. They were perfect teammates. Smart. Dedicated. Loyal. They both seemed to take almost everything in stride, and used humor a great deal to deflect the seriousness and horror of their jobs. So she, in what she now considered a fit of insanity, had done her best to screw that up this past month. Whether it was intentional or not, she had hurt them deeply, and there was absolutely no excuse for that. She sighed, and decided to start with that exact sentiment.

"Guys. Javier and Kevin. As you've probably figured out, I asked you guys in here so that I could apologize to the both of you. Sincerely. My behavior this past month has been inexcusable. I never meant to have any of this shit happen, and my refusal to pay attention to what was painfully obvious to everyone else is unforgivable. You are the best teammates, the best partners, I could have ever hoped for, and I don't deserve you. But I need you. You guys make this job doable. I can't change what has happened this past month, but I can do everything in my power to make amends." Damn it, she felt tears tickling the back of her eyes. She would not cry! Her voice quavered slightly when she added "I can make a solemn promise to you both that nothing remotely similar will ever happen again. Ever. Never on my watch."

Ryan looked at her and said softly, "We're not the ones you need to be apologizing to, boss."

"Actually, Kevin, you are. What I did, and more importantly what I failed to do, over an entire month, affected us all. As it was pointed out to me last night by a great friend, what I did was totally screw with the dynamics of the best team in New York." She nodded at Esposito, who at least had the wit to nod back. "What I'd like to know, is what can I do to repair the damage I've caused between us."

Ryan looked up from his soup, his eyes growing much colder. Kate thought how easy it was to forget, with his quick smile and easy demeanor, that Kevin Ryan was an extremely tough cop. That look certainly reminded her. "I don't know, Beckett. Let me ask you something. Do you know how bad it really was for Castle? It seemed that Demming saved his worst for when you weren't around. Esposito and I called him on it a few times, but Castle asked us to back off."

"Castle asked . . ."?

Esposito shrugged. "Yeah. Technically Demming outranks us, and he was dating our boss. Castle didn't want us to get into any trouble, with you or with IAD. He didn't think it would be a great career move for us to deck the asshole." He looked at Beckett and showed a fake smile. "Sorry."

"No, you're right, he was an asshole. Is." She dreaded the answer to the next question. "What else was Demming doing to Castle?"

Ryan's eyes blazed. "Always called him 'Civie', 'Civie Sissy', or worse. Questioning his manhood. This last week he kept crowding him every chance he got. At the coffee machine. In the elevator. Walking on the sidewalk in front of the precinct. You know, typical intimidation shit. Bumping shoulders. Getting in his way. He wanted Castle to throw a punch, or at least shove him. Castle kept his cool, except for that one time."

"What happened that time?"

Ryan looked at his partner, who shrugged and said "Might as well tell her, Bro."

"It was bad, and even Demming knew he'd over-stepped. We were all working late, and Castle asked Little Castle to stop by and drop off some pizza's for us. Demming was just coming out of the interrogation room with you as Alexis was leaving. You took the suspect back to holding, and Demming went to the murder board. He HAD to know who she was, but he made an, um, inappropriate comment about her. Two of them, actually." Ryan had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Castle stormed into the break room, threw his empty mug against the wall, and left for the night."

Beckett's jaw had dropped in shock. "Oh my god. I don't care what he said, that's despicable! How could you guys not tell me?"

Esposito sighed. "Kate, we all fucked up, okay? We thought you knew, that this was part of your anti-Castle campaign. The next morning, I remember you kidding Castle about his mug, telling him real cops weren't that clumsy."

All the blood in her body seemed to rush into her head, on to her face. Beckett closed her eyes and let out a low moan. Her sandwich stopped agreeing with her. "Oh, God! That was the next day?" She remembered that conversation, and how Demming had laughed. She lowered her head, as ashamed as she'd ever been in her life.

Esposito passed the brisket sandwich over to Ryan, then seized the corned beef on pumpernickel. He opened a bag of chips. "I gotta ask you, boss, what in the hell did you ever see in that guy?"

Beckett was about to call Esposito out on delving into her private life, but closed her mouth again. Took a calming breath. No, it was her personal life that she had brought into the workplace, that had messed everything up. They had every right to bring it up. She nodded and said, "Unfortunately, I only saw what I wanted to see. It had been … a while … since I'd dated anyone. I … figured … it was time for me to quit hiding in the job. So I latched on to the first attractive guy who started paying attention to me. Major mistake." A vision of Ellie Monroe, Castle's scheming actress from last month, came unbidden to her mind, and how much teasing she'd subjected Castle to for his taste in dates. For the slut's hidden motivations. Ah, irony!

Esposito grinned. "So, have you kicked his ass yet?"

She shook her head. "No. I started in on him this morning, but he was conveniently saved by a Robbery call out."

Ryan snorted, but had to wait a little to finish his mouthful. "I take it from your tone of voice you thought the call was faked."

"Yeah. He kept peeking at his watch, like he was waiting for something." She looked at first one, then another, teammate. "He threw this all back on me. About how I was always bitching about Castle, about my annoying shadow, and that I couldn't do anything about him because of Montgomery and the mayor. About how he was doing me this huge favor, getting rid of Castle without any political blowback. Tell me the truth, guys. Am I really that bad?" She looked to Esposito like she was afraid of the answer.

But it was Ryan that answered for the two of them. "Boss, anybody who isn't blind, deaf, and dumb knows that you and Castle have this weird love-hate act going, and ninety-nine percent of the stuff you guys say to each other is to get under the other's skin. I have heard you make fun of his hair, clothes, looks, personality, sexuality, vocation, mannerisms, intelligence, morals, and eating habits; and not once have I ever doubted your mutual respect and friendship." Ryan grinned. "I do, though, sometimes doubt your sanity."

"Anyway, what are you worried about, Beckett?" Esposito looked disgusted. "We all know Demming is full of shit. It's obvious that all of this crap was to try to weasel onto our team." Esposito suddenly realized the ramifications of that remark, and how it made Beckett and Demming's relationship appear. How she was duped. His eyes widened involuntarily. Ryan realized it too, and had a similar reaction.

Beckett's voice was at her very driest, empty of any lilt. "Thanks for that, Detective Esposito. I had reached the same conclusion about ten minutes after our conversation last night. I feel so much better now."

She nibbled on a chip as she watched Ryan pick up his soup bowl and slurp down the remainder. She let his manners pass. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then reopened then. She licked her suddenly dry lips. "Gentlemen, I have forfeited any rights to ask for favors, but I need your help. Any ideas on how I can fix this with Castle." Her eyes were desperately pleading, even if her tone wasn't. "I really want him to come back, to feel welcome again. The sooner, the better. Anything you guys can think of, short of falling on my sword?"

The men looked at each other, and Beckett saw one of those non-verbal communications that all good partners share. She felt a pang when she realized she'd shared quite a few of those moments with Castle, and worried if there'd ever be another. Her partners' look lasted just a second, and they apparently came to some sort of meeting of the minds.

They both turned back to look at her, small smiles on their faces. Esposito just said "Nope."

Ryan added, "Sorry, not a clue."

Esposito. "But that falling on the sword thing might help …"

Ryan looked like he was thinking real hard. "Well, it would be interesting to see."

She narrowed her eyes, looking at their little half smiles, and growled, "What?"

Esposito sighed. "Open your eyes, Kate. Why do you think he's been following you around all this time? What, research? The guy's done enough research to write 50 books. Look, whatever the reason is, I'm pretty sure it doesn't include watching you be with another guy."

"What are you saying, Esposito?"

Kevin looked at her with pity. "Are you serious, Beckett? You really have no idea why Castle has stuck around for two years? Why an independently wealthy guy would willingly share our terrible hours, eat cold pizza and skip meals, and stand around crime scenes in rain or freezing cold? Why he withstood Demming's crap, and came back for more?"

"What? You're saying that Castle all of a sudden has a crush on me?"

Ryan replied, "I really don't think it was very sudden. Do you, partner?"

Esposito chimed in "No, and I think it's a little bigger than a crush."

"C'mon guys, this is Castle. You know, the guy who's always on Page 6? The guy who was banging that skank actress last month? Castle of the deep-fried twinkie? I don't think so. He's a great and fun partner, but that's all it's ever been."

Esposito looked back at Ryan and said, "You know, partner, maybe she's right. I have a boss that says we should always follow the evidence. Should we examine the last two years of their partnership?"

"I think that's an excellent idea, partner. Why don't you start."

Beckett sat back in her chair, well aware that her two junior partners were about to embark on one of their Laurel and Hardy acts. She took a drink of water.

"Okay. Let me see." Espo looked up for inspiration. "There was that time last year they were going undercover at that fund raiser. He didn't want her to be embarrassed, so he had made, in like two hours, a five thousand dollar dress for her to wear. Who does that for a partner?"

Ryan shook his head: "I wouldn't do that for a partner." He looked at Esposito. "I might lend you one of my ties, though."

Espo: "Thanks, but no thanks."

Ryan: "How about that time he tackled her when she let that Nigerian guy sneak up on them, then distracted him with a freaking bottle of champagne? Would a mere partner do that?"

Espo: "I would never do that for you. I might yell for you to duck. Maybe. And I wouldn't waste the champagne." He looked at Beckett. "I got another one. I seem to remember this civilian running into a burning building for someone. Do you remember that?"

Ryan: "Hey, I might do that for my partner, but I'd wait for the fire department first."

Espo: "C'mon, Ryan, you wouldn't do that."

Ryan: "Ha. You're right, I would never do that. That's fucking suicide. Hey partner, didn't somebody open up their home, which he shared with his Mom and teen, for like two weeks while some homeless person was waiting for an insurance check?"

Espo: "Yeah, I remember that. Hell, I would NEVER do that for you. You snore like a … a … a drunken Irishman. I might give you directions to the YMCA, though. Hey, Ryan, was that before or after this civilian went into a building, following our boss who was chasing some lunatic, and shot HER OWN gun out of the guy's hand right before she got shot?"

Ryan: "Actually, I think that was during. And by the way, I would definitely do that!"

Espo: "Oh really, Mr. Sharpshooter? You haven't hit the '10 ring' on the firing range in like forever." Esposito stared into Beckett's eyes, who had a small smile on her face as she enjoyed their banter and her memories. He said in a soft voice, "I also remember this same guy chasing a cold case because it was important to his friend and partner. Spoke up about it, knowing it was going to get him in trouble, because it was the correct thing to do. I also recall him spending a hundred thousand dollars of his own money on a long shot, because she needed him to." Esposito reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins, mostly pennies. He put them on the table in front of Ryan. "Here you go, partner."

"Thanks, partner."

Beckett raised one eyebrow. "So what, Espo? He's hopelessly in love with me? Is that the message here? Instead of falling on my sword, I should fall on his?" Her eyes suddenly grew huge as the boys started laughing uproariously. Her hand flew up to her mouth. "Oh, shit, did I really say that?" As they continued their hysterics, she couldn't help but laugh with them. The joy her two partners found in each other, and in life, was contagious. She added "No way. Anyway, after this last fiasco, I'm swearing off men for a while."

Ryan's laughter started to taper off. He looked at his boss and choked out, "In that case, you need to stay away from my sisters" which set Esposito off on another bout of hilarity.

Ryan's laughter died down. He wiped his eyes with a napkin. "Kate, you're missing the point. We're not suggesting any kind of romantic relationship between the two of you," his smile widened, "although I think you two would be awesome together. What we're saying, is that Castle is the most forgiving guy we've ever met. And if you say that all you two have between you, after two years, is some sort of a distant professional association, you're a liar." Ryan shrugged. "He cares for you, you care for him. Tell him what happened, and tell him how sorry you are. Apologize profusely. Plead temporary insanity. He'll come back."

Esposito wiped the tears from his face. "Now Beckett, he might still be mad. He'll probably yell at you, or lash out, or pout. Hell, if it was me, we'd have the knock-down drag-out fight of all time. Cause I'm tough, but I'm fair. But it's not me, it's Castle. He's a great guy, who'd do almost anything for you. As long as you convince him this was all Demming, he'll get over it." He started to clean up the remnants of his lunch. "And it's not Ryan, it's you. You'll say you're sorry; he'll forgive you, than you'll both ignore it like it never happened. It's what you guys do. You'll both be back to your weird routines in no time."

Ryan, who'd been gathering up his trash, spun abruptly. "Dude! You did NOT just make me the girl in this partnership!"

"Hey, if the slipper fits, Mr. Sharpshooter …."

"I seem to remember a certain stake-out where my partner went through a bottle of lotion . . . ."

Beckett fled the room.

**A/N: I apologize for the length of the chapter, but don't blame me. It is totally Ryan's and Esposito's fault! **


	8. A Grand Gesture

**FRIDAY, MAY 27TH - Afternoon**

_(115 days prior to the incident)_

Castle leaned back in his chair, looked around the break room, and took another sip of beer, before resuming his story. "It was very emotional. Yeah, there were a lot of tears. Um ... Alexis was fine, by the way."

Ryan, Esposito, Montgomery, and Lanie all laughed. Esposito held up his beer bottle, toasting Castle. "I gotta say, Castle, we're gonna miss you around here."

A hint of something unusual for the happy-go-lucky writer crossed his face. Sadness? Regret? He replied, "Yeah, I'm gonna miss you, too."

Ryan tried to lighten the mood. "You're still leaving the coffee machine, though, right?"

Castle smiled in appreciation. "I can't have you suffer in my absence."

Ryan looked relieved. "That's good."

Lanie lifted her eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, we could really use one of those down in the morgue." Castle smirked back at her.

Montgomery, always the captain, proclaimed "With Castle gone, I just hope our clearance rate doesn't drop."

Everybody laughed as Beckett walked into the room and grabbed a beer from the table. As she twisted off the top, Castle kidded her. "Oh! Look who's off duty."

"Yeah, well, Castle, I'm not all work."

Lanie leaned over towards Castle and confided "Don't get into a drinking contest with her. She can take you."

"Thank you."

It was all in good humor, but it seemed to Beckett that some of the light had dimmed in Castle's eyes. Normally, their banter had his eyes twinkling like crazy. At least, they did before she'd monumentally screwed up. She needed to step up her game. "Oh, I don't need to drink to take him."

Lanie choked on a swallow. "Ooh! What's gotten into you?"

She smirked at the ME, then looked at her partner. Maybe ex-partner. "Castle, do you have a second?"

"Of course. Yeah." He set his bottle down on the table and followed Beckett out of the room over to Esposito's desk, which Beckett used to lean against. They both noticed their four coworkers staring at them unabashedly, not even trying to hide their eavesdropping. He asked her, "What's up?"

Now that she'd arrived here, looking up at his beautiful blue eyes, she started to panic. This was her chance to re-connect with Castle, and apologize for all of the awful things he'd been subjected to lately. All her well-rehearsed lines, practiced to herself all afternoon, seemed to leak right out of her head. She stammered, "Look... I … I know that I'm not the easiest person to get to know, and I don't always let on what's on my mind. But this past two years, working with you, I've had … I've had a really good time."

Castle knew she was nervous, and why. He'd received a heads-up from Ryan when he'd returned to the precinct. He knew at least some of what was discussed at lunch today. Well, at least he knew that this past hell month had not been intentionally orchestrated by Beckett. However, that did not fully allay his anger. He was not going to let her off the hook, not easily. He wasn't fully convinced she didn't, at least subconsciously, encourage Demming. At the very least, she was still culpable for being so freaking oblivious. He was furious for being treated like an imposition, after all they'd been through together. He was angry about her lie. He was pissed that he was still sometimes being treated as an intruder, after two years of working together. He was tired of playing her game, when she got to decide all the rules.

Castle knew he had an audience, the perfect audience for this clash. There hadn't been that many opportunities in his life when he could take the high moral ground, but this appeared to be the perfect occasion to do just that. He knew Beckett was expecting him to rip into her for all the recent injustices, but he would not give her that satisfaction. He would rise above this mess, and exit with his honor intact. Then, he would wait and see what the future would bring. Maybe, if Demming ever went away, they could resume … whatever it was they had earlier. Maybe.

He drew himself up to his full height, and sneered, "Good time? GOOD TIME? Well detective, I'm so happy you found me _entertaining_."

"No, Castle, that's not what I …" she started, but stopped at his upraised palm. She braced herself, straightening her back. She expected, with Castle's gift of words, to now be verbally flayed alive. She deserved to be. She could read the simmering anger in Castle by the set of his shoulders, the way he flexed his jaw. However bad this was going to be, it wouldn't come close to the amount of pain that had been inflicted upon the writer this past month. She looked into his eyes and waited.

Castle thought for a second, then began. "You should know, my dear detective, that while I was _entertaining_ you, there was something else, something truly dramatic and life changing, happening at the same time. As it turns out, there was this vain, pompous, yet still ruggedly handsome man getting the education of his life. This man was experiencing, for the first time ever, a close up view of a new world. A world with harsh realities, and evil, and greatness, and heroism. A universe that was huge, and vital, and much bigger than the little world he'd constructed for himself and his family. It was eye-opening. It was inspiring. He'd always taken for granted the lives and problems of those who served the public. He'd trivialized how much sheer work, and drudgery, and self-sacrifice those individuals endured on a daily basis to keep him and his family safe. He never would have guessed that anybody would intentionally, and so cavalierly, give so much of themselves, just to chase an ideal of fairness. To forgo things like comfort, and affluence, and normal working hours. In short, he had discovered a higher calling.

He thought himself fortunate to be able to see this outstanding group of people, working with limited and sometimes archaic resources, performing miracles on a daily basis. He found himself amongst a tightly knit group of associates, practically a family, who would literally do anything for each other. He was seeing this group of people, confronted daily with the most horrific aspects of so-called humanity, and still maintain a sense of compassion and benevolence that reaffirmed this man's belief in civilization. He believed, for the very first time in his life, in the nobility of man, because he was witnessing it first-hand."

The sincerity was literally pouring from Castle's eyes. Beckett was captivated by his magical words, hypnotized by the cadence of his speech, and mesmerized by his intensity. She was, in a word, spellbound. Her knees were quaking, and her mouth was so dry she couldn't swallow. He continued.

"This group of people were led by a truly extraordinary woman. This woman was totally confounding to the man. She was beautiful, aloof, and a true paradox. She displayed her immense strength time and again through her endless compassion. She had a courage unlike anything he'd ever encountered, and she was wrapped in honor. He'd seen her coax a smile from an orphaned child, give hope to a recent widow, imbue optimism in the despondent, and instill faith in those that were despairing. He'd also witnessed her make repeat felons weep, shame the shameless, and frighten the terrifying. She could, in the space of a few hours, console the inconsolable, make sense out of chaos, find a needle in a field of haystacks, and get the mute to sing and the blind to see. She solved the unsolvable. She was practically a force of nature.

This paragon could laugh and joke and cry with her brothers when dealing with the most vile of circumstances, and yet, when needed, aid victims and survivors by being as hard and unyielding as a cut diamond. She could display endless patience when solving a puzzle or on a stake-out, but would brook no delays when pursuing her prey. She was a hard and demanding task master, but was hardest on herself. She showed her integrity every hour of every day, yet enjoyed tricking the wicked into betraying themselves. Her sense of duty caused her to frequently do without food, or sleep, or relaxation, or fun. Her thirst for justice was unequaled. The man's previous experiences had led him to discount many of these virtues as ideals that only belonged in works of fiction. Not only did these virtues exist, personified by this exceptional woman, but they were so much more impressive in real life than in any mere book.

So this man, who had shared most New Yorker's misconceptions about their justice system, began to grow up. He discovered the sense of accomplishment that comes from a life of giving service, even if his service was on such a limited basis. He found the unalterable joy in solving difficult and obtuse problems, and the peace that accompanies bringing justice to the wronged. Working alone most of his life, he now found a heretofore unknown sense of brotherhood when working with a team, and an almost overwhelming feeling of completeness when working with this extraordinary detective. His eyes were finally opened to what is, and what is not, truly important in this world. His entire inventory of priorities was modified to reflect a responsible and stable man in the real world, instead of the narcissistic juvenile in the fairy land he'd resided earlier.

So, Detective Beckett, that man can only, very humbly, say 'Thank you ... from the bottom of my heart'. For perhaps the first and last time in my life, I can say that it has been a huge honor and my very great pleasure in having worked with you, you and your team. For making this sugar rushing man-child feel welcome, if only for a short while. You have done what my Mother and daughter had pretty much despaired of ever happening . . . you got me to grow up. For that, and for so much more, I will be eternally grateful to you." Castle smiled and waited … and waited … and waited.

Beckett's shaking knees had given out a couple of minutes ago, as she sat perched on the corner of Esposito's desk. Her mouth was gaping like a fish out of water. Her eyes were shining and her vision was blurred, but miraculously not a single tear had escaped. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, so she was practically panting. She was staring into those deep blue eyes of this incredible, incredible man, and she couldn't assemble a single thought, or string two words together. She just sat there, speechless and dumbfounded, staring back at his eyes.

Castle glanced up over her shoulder and frowned. "Ah, Lothario! Your timing, as always, is impeccable." His gaze returned to stare back into Beckett's stunned eyes, and now his voice leaked a hint of anger for the first time. A little hurt. "Looks like NYPD's version of Jack Dawson has arrived."

She shook her head, puzzled, managed "Wa … Wait! What?"

Castle jerked his head to indicate something behind Beckett. "Your weekend has arrived." There was no mistaking the venom in his voice this time.

Baffled, she turned around, only to see Demming standing at her desk, dressed in casual clothes, with an overnight bag hanging from his shoulder. She spun back around, her eyes wide in alarm. "No, Castle, wait!" She reached out, but he immediately recoiled. She dropped her arm. "Please!"

Castle sighed. "It's okay, Beckett." He pointed towards the break room. "I'm just going back in there."

She sat there frozen, as Castle shifted off towards the break room. Shit! She hadn't apologized yet. Castle hadn't forgiven her yet. Her mind was blank, her heart swirling with emotions. She had two major impulses: hug Castle tightly until the world was right again, no matter how long it took; and pull out her Glock and shoot Demming. She stood up, and realized she was still holding the forgotten bottle of beer. She set it on Esposito's desk and strode towards her desk, towards the jerk that had been avoiding all her calls and texts today. With her back turned, she didn't see Castle enter the break room.

Castle looked around. The air was thick with tension, and everybody was scrupulously avoiding everyone else's eyes. Castle just chuckled and said, "Wow! Real casual, guys."

Smiles flickered on all their faces. Esposito said, "Nice speech, Castle. I'm touched."

Castle picked up his half empty beer and took a drink. "Thanks. Just so you know, at no time, Esposito, was I ever talking about you."

Montgomery and Ryan both laughed out loud. Montgomery said, "Rick, if I have to give another speech to the cadets at the academy, I'm going to get you to write it."

Lanie piped up. "If you're writing a speech for a bunch of baby cops, make sure you use really small words." She and Castle laughed as the three cops in the room objected.

Ryan, tired of ignoring the elephant in the room, asked, "Where to now, Castle?"

"Well, now I drive up to the house in the Hampton's, and I finish writing the next Nikki Heat masterpiece."

"And then what?"

"Then, I edit the book."

"And then what?"

"What are you, Ryan, five years old? Then I wait for the final galleys, proof them, then we go to print, then I go to a book launch, then I get rave reviews, then I end up on the New York Times best seller list, knocking Patterson off in the process, then I go on a long and boring book tour, and then I make a lot of money."

Esposito quipped, "You forgot winning the Pulitzer."

"Mystery novels and serials don't normally win Pulitzers. I'll take an Edgar, though! That'd be cool!"

Ryan said, in a quiet voice, looking right into Castle's eyes "And then what?"

Castle shrugged. "Let's see what happens this summer, Kevin. I'm sure everything will work out, one way or another." He looked at his two partners. "You guys are still coming up to the beach house for a weekend or two, aren't you?"

Montgomery rumbled, "What makes you two think you'll get any time off this summer, hmmm?"

Castle smiled and turned it back on the captain. "And I'll see you and Evelyn and the kids in July, right Roy?" Ryan and Esposito grinned at their Captain's expense.

"You got one of those open-ended invitations left for me, Castle?" Lanie asked.

"There's always room for a pretty ME, Doctor Parrish."

"Great. And maybe I'll bring a friend."

A little bit of the light went out of Castle's eyes. "Right. Just make sure you call first."

Castle's phone buzzed, and he swiped it open and checked the message. Gina was getting impatient. He sighed. He'd regretted inviting her for the weekend as soon as it was out of his mouth. Was he such a sorry, social animal that he couldn't spend one weekend alone? So much for 'growing up'. The Santayana quote flitted through his mind. Well, here's one writer who wouldn't be doomed to repeat history. He needed to fix this, now. "Damn. Sorry, guys, but I've got to go."

They all stood up and shook hands. Lanie surprised both of them by giving him a spontaneous hug. Castle walked out, but paused in the far door. They could still hear muted voices from the bullpen coming through the other door. He looked around as if he were memorizing the place, then looked both homicide detectives in the eye. "Watch her back, guys."

Esposito gave a sad smile. "We've got her covered, bro."

Castle nodded, spun, then was gone.

The four left in the break room looked at each other quietly. It seemed as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Montgomery stared at his two detectives and broke the silence. "Detectives. Is there something I should know, or something I should be concerned about?"

"No sir."

"Okay. Who is Jack Dawson?"

The ME answered the captain. "That's Leonardo DiCaprio's character in Titanic. You know, the young, poor guy that gets the girl anyway." Lanie did not sound happy.

Esposito asked, "Then who's Lothario?"

Montgomery grunted as he stood up. "A famous womanizer in history. Don Quixote." He set his empty bottle in the six pack, and continued "It's after five o'clock. I'm going to call the wife, and then try to get out of here at a reasonable hour. You two have a great long weekend, and I'll see you first thing Tuesday." He turned a smile towards Lanie and added "Dr. Parrish. A pleasure, as always."

The two detectives and the Medical Examiner said their goodbyes. Montgomery walked out towards his office.

Ryan finished his beer, and stood up. "God Damn it. That could have gone a lot better."

Esposito said, "Don't sweat it, bro. You heard him. He's got it bad. He'll be back."

"Yeah? When, Javier? She didn't even say she's sorry."

Lanie decided to defend her friend, even though she planned on having words with her later. "Ryan, it'll be okay. Look, Castle got up on his high horse and got the last word in, so he's happy, Now, our Kate is a linear thinker. So before she repairs her bridges with Castle, she thinks she needs to dump Demming, who has been hiding from her all day. She'll text or call Castle tonight or tomorrow, she'll do the mea culpa bit, and they'll be fine."

"So you think they'll kiss and make up that soon?"

She smiled saucily. "Oh, Ryan, if it was only that easy."

Esposito laughed. "Maybe she'll go the sword route."

Ryan started chuckling just as Beckett walked in.

**A/N II: Again, sorry about the chapter length. This time, I blame Castle. He just wouldn't shut up!**

**Writing Wrongs: Two major problems with canon - When would Richard Castle EVER miss an opportunity for a grand gesture; and can anybody believe that a prissy, professional, well paid and alimonied woman would EVER walk into a dirty, common precinct unless in handcuffs? So, no Gina, but a Castle speech and exit. Wow! Kind of makes him the good guy, and Beckett the bad guy, during the Season 2 to Season 3 summer. Stay tuned . . . . .**


	9. Praying Mantis

**A/N: For as much as I sometimes highlight her flaws, Kate Beckett is a highly intelligent, fierce, and unrelenting opponent. Do NOT mess with her!**

**FRIDAY, MAY 27TH - Evening**

_(115 days prior to the incident)_

Demming got back to his desk, having changed into jeans and a comfortable shirt. The day, which had started with such promise, had turned to shit in a hurry. After his confrontation with Beckett, he'd come back to his desk, only to be caught by his Lieutenant. He'd pretended that there was a new case to duck out on Beckett and, sure enough, a hijack crew he'd been chasing for months had struck again. Karma was a bitch sometimes. He spent all morning and half the afternoon trying to pick up a lead or unearth a witness, without success. This robbery crew was too damn good. Never any prints, no witnesses, no discernable patterns to the crimes, and the same cheap work gloves left at each crime scene. His CI's, mostly friendly working girls, hadn't heard a peep. CSU still hadn't processed the truck, because a homicide team had once again taken priority. So, he was basically no closer to finding them then he was yesterday.

When he finally got back to the precinct, hungry and discouraged, he was accosted by a lot of wild stories swirling around about what was happening to Beckett's team, and who was to blame. Castle had enough detractors, and Beckett enough enemies, that there was speculation that he'd screwed up a case and had been kicked out, or she had screwed it up and he'd left in disgust. Unfortunately, there was also a more accurate version floating around that it was Demming's fault, and that Beckett was out for blood. In hindsight, he should have known trying to keep anything quiet in the fishbowl of the 12th was impossible.

At least one good thing had happened because of all the scuttlebutt. Boling and Laurence had each stopped by to remind him he had one day left on the bet, and count their winnings before they actually won them. Little did they know that he'd already secured a couple of pictures; not the ones he ultimately wanted, but enough to win the bet. They each scoffed at his weekend plans, believing the situation unsalvageable. Demming had, with apparent reluctance, agreed to double each bet. Demming would send them pictures tomorrow, winning an easy $800.

It was just as well, because his half of the weekend beach rental, $400, was not refundable. Based on the increasingly irate texts from Beckett, his weekend plans were toast. What he needed to do now was salvage what he could. He was pretty sure that he and Beckett were over. For him, that wasn't the big prize. More than anything, he wanted to work on Beckett's team, at least for a little while. Get it on his resume. He knew he'd be good at it. Given time, he knew the homicide team would grow to appreciate him. He was a good cop. He was smart and resourceful. A broken relationship with the boss should not be impossible to overcome. Actually, he'd done it before when he was in uniform.

His history with Castle would fade with time. He didn't feel bad about what he did. The writer didn't belong on a homicide team. Demming did. Case closed. Civilians come and go, cops were forever. The NYPD, constantly under siege by detractors and interlopers, had an instinctual compulsion to close ranks against outsiders. It was almost visceral. He could weather the storm if he could survive the day. Not as Beckett's boyfriend, but as her fellow officer. Remind her where her loyalties should lie.

He grabbed his weekend bag and started upstairs, having waited until everybody had cleared out. He didn't need any witnesses to this conversation. He knew that Ryan and Esposito were doing a final goodbye for the novelist, so Beckett would still be there, and not working a case. When he entered homicide, he saw only two people in the whole room. Beckett was leaning against Esposito's desk, her back to him. Talking to her, hopefully saying his final goodbye, was Castle. He checked Montgomery's office. The light was on and the door open, but it was empty. He wanted to hand in his transfer request personally, so he decided to wait at Beckett's desk. He saw her turn around to look at him, then turn back towards Castle. She reached out towards him, and Castle jumped back like she was attacking him. Demming couldn't help but smile. God, he was good!

He put the duffle bag on the floor, and sat in Beckett's extra chair. He didn't have long to wait. He could hear her heels as she approached. She rounded into his vision and stopped four feet away, her hands on her hips. He recognized Beckett's interrogation face, her eyes shooting lasers.

"That's not your chair. Get up."

Demming shrugged, and stood up. He knew better than to smile. "Kate, I'm sorry I didn't get back to you earlier today. I caught a case, and it's been crazy."

Beckett held her hand out, palm up. "Demming, give me your phone."

"What?"

"Tom. Your phone! Now!"

Demming shrugged again, puzzled. He handed his phone over, and she proceeded to unlock it. Oh my God, he'd forgotten. They'd discussed their cell pins last week at dinner. His were the last four digits of his badge number. Hers was 0109, for no discernable reason. She started paging through his call log. He hoped and prayed she wouldn't think to access his pictures folder. She found something, and held up the phone to see, handing it back to him. A call from Ron Laurence at 8:54. Oh!

"So, Detective Demming, since when do you call a Detective Third 'Sir'? Or did your Lieutenant, who was just leaving Montgomery's staff meeting at the time, decide to use a junior detective's phone for some reason."

"Look, Kate, I knew you were upset. I didn't know why. I'm not real fond of confrontations with fellow cops, and avoid them whenever possible. I have found that, given enough time to cool off, most problems can be handled later with fewer issues. I asked Laurence to give me a call in a few minutes if he hadn't heard from me. As luck would have it, I left our little discussion and walked right into a new case."

"It seems to me, Detective, that one of your many problems with my civilian consultant was that cops were inherently braver, more likely to stand up under adversity. Richard Castle has never ducked out of a difficult conversation with me, and we've had a few these past two years. Thanks to you, we're having another one. Could it be that he's a better man than you?"

Well, she certainly knew how to push his buttons. He took a calming breath. "I don't recall ever calling Castle a coward."

"Civie sissy?"

"A sissy is not necessarily a coward."

"Really? You want to work with semantics? Why don't you tell me what semantics you used to describe 16 year old Alexis Castle? Was it poetic? Colorful? Or maybe everybody else misconstrued what you said, because you have such a better grasp of the English language then a world renowned bestselling author?"

"How was I supposed to know who she was? You and I had just left interrogation, having failed to break our suspect. She could have been a pizza delivery girl."

"We failed to break our suspect because he was innocent, at least of murder. What did you say about Alexis?"

"It was just guy talk."

"Pretend I'm one of the guys. Tell me now, Demming, or I swear I'll put you in front of an ethics board."

"How do I know you won't anyway?"

"Because I used the word 'or'. See? Semantics. The either is understood. Either you tell me right now, or else."

Demming sighed. "I may have mentioned what I'd like to do with her on prom night if she'd been in my high school. You know, if she was my date. Girls did not look like that back then."

"What else?"

Damn, Ryan and Esposito had really ratted him out. "I, um, may have mentioned, um, her pretty mouth." At least Demming had enough self-preservation to look contrite. "If you recall, I was trying to rattle Castle, because YOU were complaining about your annoying shadow."

"So, you DID know who she was. So, you rattle a man by attacking his sixteen year old daughter? You're disgusting."

Shit! "You know what they say, Kate, 'all is fair … ' " he stopped at her look and asked, "What?"

" … in love and war, Demming. That's the end of the quote. So tell me, was this past month love or war?"

Christ, you couldn't get anything past this woman. She never cut you any slack. She was like a praying mantis, locking onto his head until she could rip it off. "Well, with Castle it was mostly verbal, so it wasn't war. More like locker room harassment. As to the other word, I thought it was a little early to use that word for us."

"Us? There's no 'us', Demming. There was never an 'us'. It was always only you and your manipulative, Machiavellian scheme to break up my team. Then what? We welcome you with open arms? Demming, the hero who got rid of the man who was ruining our team! Did you know that, since Castle joined our team, we've solved 92 of our 94 cases?"

Demming's eyes bulged. "No way!" Those numbers were astronomical, totally unheard of.

"Way. So, we were doing just fine before you decided to rescue us. We'll be fine next month when we're all back together."

"Castle's coming back?"

"Absolutely! Even if I have to beg, and crawl on my hands and knees. Because I've made two major discoveries in the last 24 hours. The first is that Richard Castle is one of the finest men I have ever met. He was here, right by my side, for almost two years, and I'd never fully realized that. Not completely. Not realizing that, and not realizing the hell you were putting him through, that's on me. The rest of this crap, this past month, is absolutely all on you. So, yes, Castle is coming back, the sooner the better."

"What's the second discovery?"

Beckett took a step forward, crowding the taller detective. She stared up into his eyes and said softly, "That you, Detective Demming, are a _motherfucker_."

Cops swear all the time. It's what they do. But there are limits, and the pejorative Beckett had hurled at Demming was way over the line. Police reserve that word as a deadly insult. Demming's face reddened and he growled softly, "Better back off, Beckett."

She hissed back, just as softly "What's wrong, Demming, Don't you like to be crowded?"

Demming stood taller. "You'd better be careful, detective."

Her eyes glittering with rage, she leaned even further closer to him, so their faces were only inches apart. "Or you'll _what_?"

"Everything okay over there?" They stepped away from each other to see Captain Montgomery, who was staring at them from near his office door.

"Yes, sir. We're good."

Demming added, "No problems, Captain."

Montgomery looked them over carefully. They were both flushed and breathing heavily. They must have been making out. No wonder Castle left. He sure hoped his best detective on his best team knew what the hell she was doing. Montgomery automatically responded, "Carry on" before he'd thought about it. He shook his head. Probably the wrong thing to say to a couple of kids in love. He entered his office.

Demming took a deep breath, then another. God, this whole conversation had gotten away from him. He thought he was the master at controlling situations, but he'd never gone against anyone like Beckett. The woman was uncanny, capable of turning any slip to her advantage. He needed to salvage whatever he could from the wreckage. He thought he'd try humor first.

"So, I guess this means we're not going to the beach this weekend?"

"Good guess." Still enraged.

Okay, humor wouldn't work. How about generosity? "Look, Kate, we each spent over $400 for the room for three nights. I'm going to stay with my uncle down the beach, who has that extra room with the twin bed." He reached in his pocket and pulled out the reservation page he'd printed earlier. "It's bought and paid for, and yours if you want it." He put the paper on her desk. "Use it or lose it."

Not saying a word, she nodded.

Maybe sincerity would help. "Damn it, Kate, I know I screwed up. I got carried away. It's what I do. I go way overboard on things. I'm sorry. Next week, when we're all back at work, please let me know what I can do to fix this shit. It hurts to know I messed us up so badly."

She nodded again. Her eyes had gained a sheen, and her lips were firmly compressed together.

He sighed. "Look, I know saying I'm sorry won't be enough, but I'll say it again. I'm sorry I caused anyone, but especially you, any pain." He gave a weak smile. "Have a good weekend, or at least as good as you can." He picked up his duffel back and walked over towards the Captain's office.

Beckett ran her fingers though her hair. She looked at her father's watch. Oh, God, it was 5:10. She started for the break room, but chanced to look over at her boss shaking hands with Demming. He was handing her captain an envelope. She cursed before turning, snatching her beer bottle from Esposito's desk, and continued towards the break room. As she entered the room she heard Ryan laughing softly.

"What's so funny, Ryan?" She looked around at her two teammates and her best friend, but not her partner. "Where's Castle?"

Silence. No more laughter from Ryan, no chatter from Esposito, no comments from Lanie. Nothing.

"Oh, God! He left, didn't he?"

Ryan looked at her. "We were just sayin' that maybe you should have tried the sword thing." He looked at Esposito and Lanie, and said "I gotta go, guys. I promised my folks I'd be over there for dinner." He fist bumped Esposito. "Have a good weekend, partner." He walked past the ME with his palm upraised, which she slapped. "Be good, Doc." He walked past Beckett without pausing, spitting out a cryptic "G'Night, Beckett." Then he too, was gone.

Beckett walked into the room, and sat at the table. She looked at Esposito. "When did he leave?"

"About ten minutes ago. I thought we already did this? Were you _busy_?"

Beckett pulled out her phone and started texting, while Lanie jumped up in her defense. "Shut it, Esposito. She was taking care of business." She looked at Beckett. "Is everything alright, Kate?"

"Yeah, Lanie, everything's _just fine_. Let me send this." A few seconds on her phone before she looked up at her friend. "No, really, I'm terrific. I have a junior teammate that won't talk to me, a senior teammate who's going to fix me through sarcasm, and a partner who thinks I can turn water into wine, but may never speak to me again. I just found out that my boyfriend of four weeks is a lying, scheming jerkoff. I'm great." Her phone chirped and she looked at it. "And now, my partner is asking me to have a great weekend at the beach, and letting me know we can talk Tuesday." She looked at her friend, then her partner. "Did anybody tell Castle that I wasn't going to be with Demming this weekend?"

Esposito actually snorted. "Not our job, Beckett. We were kinda hoping you would do that." He stood up, put his and the other empty bottles in the recycle bin. He turned towards the ladies. "Look, Kate, I'm not normally Mr. Optimist around here, but I'm sure things will work themselves out. You heard him tonight. That was not the sound of a man who wanted to go away forever. But you gotta admit, he just had a really crappy couple of weeks. You might want to cut him some slack, and give him a little space." He put out his fist, which his boss promptly bumped. "To tell you the truth, _chicas_, I have three straight days off, and I don't want to see or hear from you guys either." He turned and left, chuckling.

Kate sat at the table, her forehead resting on the palm of her hand. After a minute she heard, "Kate, honey, are you okay?" She nodded her head. She heard, "Are you sure?" Another nod. She heard, "Then you want to tell me what 'sword' your boys are talking about?"

The corners of Kate's lips inched up. She said, her head still down, "At lunch today, I suggested I might have to fall on my sword to atone for all my sins." She lifted her head, her tiny smile breaking through, a slight blush highlighting her cheeks. "It was later … suggested … that I might prefer falling on Castle's."

Mission accomplished. The little ME was roaring with laughter. She stammered, "I always knew those boys of yours were smart." Her chuckles ran down, but her eyes were dancing. She confided, "I gotta tell you, Kate, if I EVER have a man as good looking as Richard Castle say even half the stuff to me you heard tonight, I would drop him in his tracks and show him a real woman's gratitude. I mean, he called you a FORCE OF NATURE! The least you could do is to act like the wind and blow him."

"LANIE!"

"I'm just sayin', that was quite some speech. I wish I'd recorded it for you."

"No worries", Beckett sighed, "I doubt I'll have any problem remembering every word."

"So, now what are you going to do this weekend?"

"Nothing. All my plans fell through. How about you?"

"Me? I'm off until Monday afternoon. I'm going to find me some serious R &amp; R. That stands for Rum and Real men."

"Hey, Lanie, you want to go to the beach?"

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon." Beckett threw her bottle away, and they walked out through the bullpen back to her desk. She grabbed the reservation and handed it to her friend. "Does this sound good to you?"

"Whoa! This is right on the beach. Free Mimosa's and Bloody Mary's in the morning, free drinks in the evening?" She looked up from her reading. "How much?"

"Already paid for. Want to share a room?"

"Hell, yes. I can be ready in fifteen minutes. But I gotta tell you, if I get one of those well built sand volleyball men needing aid and comfort, your skinny ass is sleeping in the lobby."

They laughed as Beckett gathered her things. They walked out, only to be joined by Montgomery at the elevator.

"Detective. Doctor. Ready for your weekend?"

"Yes, sir." The elevator door opened and they jumped on, Lanie pushing the button for the morgue, and Montgomery for the first floor. "Sir, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, Beckett."

"Did Detective Demming hand you a transfer request this evening?"

Montgomery shrugged. "Probably."

"Sir, could I discuss it with you before you consider it?"

Montgomery shook his head. "Nope. It's your job to catch bad guys. It's the Captain's job to assign you people to help you do that. That's why they pay me the big bucks." He smiled and added, "For your information, Detective, in a _slow_ week I get about two dozen requests to join your team. I have a drawer full of them. Between your success rate, some of your highly publicized cases, and Nikki Heat, it's gotten to the point where I keep my hands in my pockets walking around 1PP so people quit handing me applications to join your team." The elevator door opened and Montgomery stepped out. "Have a good night, ladies."

"Good night sir."

"Night, Captain." As the door shut, Lanie simpered. "_Well_, **aren't** _we-e-e_ **popular**?"

"_Shut – UP_ …" Montgomery could hear their laughter fading as he exited the lobby.


	10. An Unexpected Opportunity

**SATURDAY, MAY 28TH - Morning**

_(114 days prior to the incident)_

Detective Tom Demming just finished his morning run and was cooling down. He'd calculated his route from his uncle's cottage through the Asbury Park community so he could get in his four miles, ending the run at the short driveway of the bed and breakfast where he was supposed to have stayed this weekend. He wondered if Beckett was here, or if she'd left the reservation sitting on her desk, wasted. Once his breathing had slowed, he took out his cell phone and took a selfie, the B&amp;B sign clearly seen in the background. He made a note of the B&amp;B phone number so he could call them later. If Beckett had blown off the weekend, he'd gladly swap the cramped back bedroom in his uncle's little cottage for his room here.

Under no circumstances did he want to run into Beckett, so cutting through the B &amp; B was not an option. A public beach access was two doors down from the Inn. He took it, removing his t-shirt as he crossed the protected dunes on a raised wooden walk. He paused at the top of the ramp that descending to the beach. The day was spectacular for late May, warm with a soft breeze, and cloudless. The beach was already getting crowded at ten-thirty. He glided down the ramp and walked back to the B&amp;B, staying hallway between the ocean and the dunes. There, he took a picture of the ocean, the surf a startling contrast to the aqua of the Atlantic and the tan sand. He turned a half circle and took a picture of the Bed &amp; Breakfast from across the dunes. It looked, for lack of a better term, quaint.

He then moved down the beach a few yards and sat down in the sand, his back to the sun. With his phone in his shadow, he opened a blank text message. He attached the two pictures he'd just taken from the beach. Then, he scrolled through his recent pictures folder for the two shots he'd taken of Beckett. Neither would be considered X-rated, but were sufficiently racy to win the bet. He found the first. It showed Beckett standing in a door frame, wrapped in a towel, her hair wet and brushed straight back. It was obvious she'd recently stepped out of the shower. The towel ended just a few inches below her ass, showing off her incredible long legs. Tom looked closely, but there was no way anybody could tell where the picture was taken. Great!

He attached that photo and went looking for the other one. This one was also taken without her knowledge. He studied this one, and instantly regretted their split. She was stunning. She was sitting up in her bed, holding the sheets up just enough to cover her breasts. A leg stuck out from the sheets on the side, displaying her leg from mid-thigh down. Her hair was tousled and her lips bruised, looking like she'd just had sex. She was looking slightly off to the side, her face lit in a smile. Demming remembered her stereo had been playing a comedy station in her living room, and she was reacting to a routine by John Pinette.

Once that photo was attached, he impulsively attached the selfie he'd taken on the other side of the Inn. It was a surprising good shot, looking like somebody had taken a picture of him from a few feet away. He had a huge grin and his thumb up. He then typed the message "Pay up" in the text field. Seeing the five photos in sequence, Boling and Laurence would automatically assume he'd won their bet here in New Jersey in the last 12 hours. He added the two robbery detectives to the recipient list. Ha! Just press send and win $800. Easy money.

Well, at least one positive thing happened out of this debacle. Beckett breaking it off with him before the weekend truly sucked, but was only a mild regret in the great scheme of things. What really hurt was that he may have eliminated any opportunity for a six month rotation on Beckett's team. Hell, he would take a three month temp assignment right now. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the bombshell Beckett had unwittingly dropped on him. Beckett's team had solved 92 of their last 94 cases! That was ludicrous, the stuff legends are made of! If anybody else had told him that, he'd have called him a liar. Even TV detectives weren't that successful! Anyone even remotely associated with that kind of track record had their path to higher rank assured. Now, it looked like his opportunity to bask in that spotlight was gone, due to a little over-zealousness on his part. He knew he'd been a little over the top with his hazing of Castle, but it was only because the idiot wouldn't take a hint.

Beckett had seemed very sure of herself when discussing Castle's return to the group. She obviously believed he'd be back soon, a few weeks at most. Demming was surprised to find out that he was coming back so quickly. He'd heard from Hastings he was scheduled to be gone all summer. Not only that, but the way the writer shied away from her yesterday led him to believe that she'd need to do some major fence mending to fix things. Unfortunately, Beckett was certain she could somehow do just that. Christ! If anyone could convince the rich jerk to return to the 12th , it was Beckett.

He stood up and turned north towards his uncle's place up near the boardwalk, but immediately spun around and sat back down. He'd caught sight of Beckett and the ME, Doctor Parrish, not more than 75 feet away. They'd been bending over some towels and what looked like a small cooler. Fortunately, there was a noisy family with small kids and what looked like a large group of college kids directly between where he crouched and them. He risked a quick glimpse, insuring they hadn't spied him. He took the t-shirt off his shoulder and put the neck over the top of his head. He allowed the body of the shirt to flow over the back of his neck and down his back, like the flap of a desert hat. Using that for cover, he observed them by turning his head the least amount possible.

Both women were wearing bikinis. Skimpy bikinis. Both looked really good, yet couldn't have been more different. It seemed they were refilling large plastic cups from the small cooler. Beckett's drink of choice was orange, either a screw driver or a mimosa. Parrish's drink had the distinctive look of a bloody Mary. They were laughing at something. They topped off their respective cups and donned their sunglasses. They each picked up a book, and moved down to the surf line. They took two beach chairs that were sitting in the surf, repositioning them a few feet up the beach towards their towels, most likely following the tide line as it came in. Their drinks in cup holders, they sat and opened their books with their feet submerged in the surf. Apparently they planned to be there awhile, and had left their things above the high tide line.

Demming wanted to wait to make sure they were settled in with their books. There was no way he wanted another confrontation with Beckett. It was way too soon after the ass kicking he'd received yesterday. All he could say was, her reputation was well deserved. He counted to thirty. Twice. He then stood and circled around the college kids and walked past the detective's and her friend's towels. He walked another few feet before realizing that he'd glimpsed Beckett's cell phone peeking out from under her sandals. He veered off away from the ocean and found refuge behind a couple of open sided beach canopies, their residents hiding from the sun.

One notion dominated Demming's thoughts. It wasn't an idea as much as a number. 0109. Beckett's cell pin. He sat down to think this through. The last thing he needed was more problems from the homicide detective. On the other hand, the second last thing he needed was for a dilettante novelist to take a cop's place on a record setting homicide squad. His place. He was fairly confident Beckett and Castle hadn't spoken after his reaming yesterday. He had glanced in the break room on his way out, and Beckett was at the table with her head down, the ME the only other occupant of the room.

So, how does he prevent Beckett from restoring normal relations with Castle? Wait! Wrong question! He should ask, how to insure that Castle won't listen to, or won't believe, the homicide leader's invitation to return? That answer was easier. It had become increasingly apparent that there was some connection between the two, and Castle had strong feelings for Beckett. However, Castle couldn't know the outcome of their confrontation yesterday, could he? Even if he did, it was only from Beckett, via text or call. Still, that wasn't really likely, was it – people apologized in person, not remotely.

Any plan needed to be foolproof. He had to make absolutely sure that there was no chance of this coming back on him. If discovered, he could expect a lot worse than a verbal reprimand. The blowback would be appalling. He thought it through. He knew her phone; they had the same model. He took his phone and called up the last message, then set it to forward to Beckett's phone. He couldn't send it yet on the outside chance she'd changed her pin.

The pictures were perfect. If Castle had an i-phone like they did, only the first two photos were readily apparent in the attachments window. You had to scroll down to see the others. It would look like simple oversight on her part. Now, what to say in the text? 'Wish you were here' wasn't appropriate. 'Having fun on the beach' was too flippant. 'This is how normal folks enjoy a public beach' wouldn't work, either. He finally decided on, 'Thought u might want 2 see Asbury Park Bch'. It was very neutral, applicable no matter what the stage of their reconciliation.

He checked the ladies in their beach chairs. Still there down at the surf line. He got up and walked briskly the way he'd come. At their towels, he glanced at them, then bent and snatched her phone. He walked away, holding his breath. Nobody yelled 'Stop!', or paid him any attention whatsoever. God, people were clueless, and _still_ he spent half his time as a cop looking for eye-witnesses.

He sat behind the college kids once more. He swiped his finger on Beckett's screen, and typed in 0109. Yes! He went to messages. Then he picked up his phone, unlocked the screen, and pressed send. He waited. Nothing. Still nothing. He started sweating. Checked the number of bars on both phones. Strong signals, and still nothing. Finally, the muted 'bing' he'd been awaiting. Beckett had a message from Tom Demming. He selected the message, and verified that all the content was included. He then pressed the little 'forward' icon. Pressed the 'send to' field, and wasted time looking under 'R' before finding what he needed marked 'Castles cell'. Pressed 'send'. He deleted the recently received message, deleted the sent message, and backed out of messages to the default screen.

He looked back at the surf line. The women were still reading their books. Ever the cop, he smiled as he found himself unconsciously wiping his fingerprints from her phone with his t-shirt. He stood and headed for his uncle's, putting Beckett's phone back on his way. He thought about it. How much trouble could he really get in, in the unlikely event he was discovered? The pictures were salacious, but not X-rated. Hell, Beckett was showing more skin now in that bikini than in either of the pictures. He was confident that it would bother Richard Castle enough that it would at least slow down any reunion plans. Maybe derail them entirely. Added bonus, it would get some of his back from Beckett. Ha! Call me 'motherfucker', will you?

He figured he was pretty safe. Only an idiot with suicidal tendencies would show Beckett those pictures. Anyway, even if this got back to Beckett, she wouldn't know it was him. Suspicious, maybe, especially considering recent history, but she wouldn't _know_. She had no clue either picture had been taken. Both pictures were at her place, taken on a common i-phone. I mean, come on, the woman was not a virgin. She'd had an open box of condoms in her night stand. Oh, wait! The fifth picture was his selfie. Damn! He should have deleted that photo. Oh well, it was done, and it probably didn't matter. The odds of this coming back to haunt him he put at a little less than one percent.

As the Boardwalk came into view, he started to jog down the beach. He was really looking forward to a shower and a cold beer.


	11. Coffee & Cases

**THURSDAY, JUNE 10TH **

_(102 days prior to the incident)_

Beckett walked into the morgue, yawning. The call out for the body drop had come at 2:15 this morning, their second this week. She initially thought it was going to be an open and shut case. Husband dead on the floor shot through the heart, wife sitting there calmly drinking a vodka and tonic, and all windows and doors shut and locked. The apartment's alarm system had been set hours before the shooting, and had no record of anyone coming or going. Chalk it up to love gone wrong, another damn 'domestic' homicide in the city that never sleeps.

However, the wife had professed her innocence, and demanded a GSR test. Strangely, all swabs proved negative for any gunshot residue. When brought in to the precinct for an interview, she had refused to answer any questions and calmly asked for a lawyer. When her attorney had finally shown up after lunch, he had repeatedly advised her not to answer any of Beckett's questions, no matter how innocuous. So her one and only suspect was currently sleeping like a baby in a holding cell upstairs, still waiting to be charged.

CSU had come up totally empty in the elegant penthouse. No weapon. No clothes or anything else showing gunshot residue. No acid or toxic substance that could dissolve or clean incriminating evidence. No hidden caches. Nothing had gone down the sinks, toilets, or basement sewer; the drain traps were empty. A lot of paper products, but only paper products, had been burned in the fireplace. The alarm had not been tampered with. A big fat zero. It was like one of those stupid locked room mysteries. The ADA was unsure about charging the widow, despite the presence of a huge insurance policy on the husband that went into effect exactly 181 days ago, making it one day past the guaranteed payout. Beckett was hoping her ME friend had come up with something useful.

For about the hundredth time in the last ten days, she wished Castle was still at her side. Even if he couldn't figure out what had happened by spinning one of his stories, he had the uncanny ability to spur her thoughts in different and more productive avenues. She was struck again how extensively Castle had insinuated himself in her workday, in her life. She remembered losing a tooth as a kid; her tongue constantly, of its own volition, seeking the strange hole in her mouth. It may not have been obvious to anybody else, but she'd been aware of the absence at all times. This was exactly the same thing, just two hundred pounds bigger.

The lab appeared empty, with the exception of her victim's body on the middle table. She paused, and heard a suspiciously familiar sound emanating from the small break room the MEs used, located behind a half-closed door on the far side of the morgue. She assumed Lanie was in there, which was confirmed when she heard her friend utter a long litany of swear words. Grinning at her friend's invectives, she stepped through the door.

Kate found her suspicions confirmed when she saw Lanie struggling with a sparkling new Espresso machine, a much smaller version of the one Beckett used daily upstairs. A cloud of steam hovered over the little ME's head like a personal rain cloud. Beckett asked, "Can I help?"

The petite woman jumped six inches. "AHH! KATE! You shouldn't sneak up on people who use scalpels all day."

"Sorry. So, what's this? You got tired of sneaking upstairs to use our machine, so you broke down and bought your own?"

"No way, do I look like I have any money? I owe every penny I make AND my first born to pay for my school loans. No, I mentioned to Castle that it would be nice to have one of these, and this afternoon this little dude shows up with this contraption and starts installing it. I think he screwed it up, though, I can't get it to work right."

"Here, let me." Beckett moved in and took over for Lanie. "Okay, see this lever? Right now it's set for the hot water to go through the steam wand, which is this thing – it's how you froth milk. Switch it over to here, and the hot water goes through the ground coffee and makes you a cup. The only other thing is, you have to make sure the water temperature is hot enough but not too hot, in this yellow zone. Got it?"

"Okay, thanks."

"Sure." Then, as casually as she could, she asked "So you talked to Castle, huh?"

"Yeah, it was just a passing comment at his going away party." She looked up at her friend. "Wait. You still haven't talked to him since we got back from the beach? KATE BECKETT!"

"I've TRIED! It's kind of hard to apologize to someone when he won't talk to you. My calls go right into voicemail after half a ring. I've tried texts and e-mails. It's like I'm just throwing them away."

"Well, maybe I can help."

"Would you?"

"Sure. My phone's in my lab coat." Lanie grabbed her coffee mug and stepped around the detective, looking her over carefully. "Girl, you don't look so good. You look tired, and thinner, and you lost your tan."

"Tan? Lanie, it's not a tan when your best friend lets you pass out in the sun after drinking all morning. We Northern European types call that a sunburn!"

"Whatever. It's not like I wasn't passed out right next to you, and I was fine." She grabbed her coat and put it on, then retrieved her phone from her pocket. "Maybe Castle dropped his phone in the ocean. It sounds like something he'd do."

"I'm also e-mailing him. I doubt he dropped his computer in there, too." She looked at the man on the slab. "Anything new with our vic?"

The doctor shook her head as she dialed her phone. "Nada. No surprises. GSW was the COD. Midnight to two. He was healthy, until the nine millimeter in the heart. Punched through the pericardium and shredded the left atrium. Probably a hand gun, from maybe 10 to 15 feet. He was dead before he hit the ground. I'll get the tox screens tomorrow, but he'd had maybe one drink a couple hours before … " she held up one finger. "Castle?"

"It's Lanie, Lanie Parrish."

"I don't know, Castle. For all I know, there are thousands of Lanie's on your contact list."

She smiled. "Well, this unique, inimitable doc wants to thank-you for our new toy. I had it put in our kitchenette."

"Castle, I can't do that. Permlutter has access to all the rooms here, too."

"I'm drinking the first cup now. It's a godsend. Thank-you."

"Yeah, well, I thought your little leprechaun dude had set it up wrong, but my girl Kate showed how to switch the switch from the wand thingy. She's here now, and I'm sure she'd like to say hello."

"Are you sure? She's right here. I'm sure it'll only take a sec …"

"Okay - Thanks again - Take care - Bye". She turned to look at Beckett. "Well, that was weird."

"He didn't want to speak to me, did he?"

"Not even a little bit. He was upset and hurt that last day, but this is different. Now he sounds royally pissed. Almost hateful." She saw Kate's expression and silently cursed her big mouth. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Look, it's been less than two weeks. He's under a lot of pressure from that bitch publisher to finish the book. He'll come around."

"I hope so Lanie. A summer without him will be … " She thought of words Castle would use. Austere? Forlorn? Wow, he even improved her vocabulary. She looked at Lanie without finishing the sentence, just shook her head.

Lanie started, "Maybe we can …" when Beckett's phone went off.

"Beckett!" After about 20 seconds, she sighed and said resignedly, "Okay. Text me the address, Esposito" before she hung up.

"Not another body drop?"

"Yeah. Esposito said Permlutter called it in. According to him, some guy standing on a ladder cleaning stained glass windows at a church was shot. He's convinced it was a professional hit."

The ME pointed to the middle table. "Kate, this guy, your last case, he's barely cold. Where's Karpowski?"

"Roselyn's team is in training this week and next, and so is the squad from the 3rd. Everyone else north and east of us is on the task force for that nut in Brooklyn who's killing bicyclists.

"Well, you take care of yourself, Katharine Beckett. Eat something healthy. Get a good night's sleep."

"Who are you and what have you done with Lanie Parrish? I seem to remember a weekend recently someone insisting we drink our breakfast, eat greasy pizza for lunch, gorge on fattening appetizers all day, drink our dinners, and close the bars at 3 am."

"That was vacation, this is real life."

"Well, real life sucks. I gotta go. Call me if there's anything hinky in those tox screens." Beckett turned and left.


	12. Status Report

**Monday, July 12****th**** \- Morning**

**(70 days before the incident)**

Montgomery exited the elevator and made a beeline for his office, barely acknowledging the greetings from the rank and file. He was pissed. This was not how he'd envisioned his first day back from vacation. All the recent days of beach relaxation, open sea fishing, and playtime with the kids now seemed a distant memory. Drinking beer, joking with Castle as he watched his kids splash in the pool, and the candlelit dinners with Evelyn after he'd conned Rick into taking the kids to the movies; those might as well have been last year instead of last week.

Calls that ordered him to early Monday morning meetings at 1PP were rarely good. This had been worse than usual. He'd been ambushed by the Commissioner, and asked to accommodate that back-stabbing, rung climbing Deputy Commissioner of Traffic. It was maddening to deal with the 'old-boy network'. To have someone else monkey with his teams was infuriating. He knew the commissioner had been pressured into this, but he still felt like a token in some back room deal. His boss had confided how badly he felt about the position he was putting Montgomery in, but that still didn't help the current predicament.

He entered his office and sat at his desk, firing up the computer. Now, two hours later than anticipated, he watched bleakly as his inbox filled with action items, meeting requests, and status reports. He really wanted to be back in the Hampton's; preferably on the back of a fishing boat, cold beer within reach, landing a big bluefish or striped bass. He sighed, then attacked the most critical items. After an hour of organizing chaos, he thought his week sufficiently triaged to tackle the next unsavory task. He picked up the phone, dialed an extension, and asked his top detective to come in with her open files.

He soon heard a knock, then heard Beckett's voice. "Good morning, sir. How was your vacation?" He looked up to see his protégé smiling in the doorway. It may have been the difference of not having seen her in ten days, but she didn't look good. She looked tired and run-down. Her clothes, which normally accented her attractiveness, seemed to hang on her. Her face was pale and seemed thinner, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. The underside of her nose was still red, telling Montgomery she had yet to shake the summer cold she'd been battling for a month. She was carrying far too many files. Montgomery nodded, indicated the chair in front of his desk, and responded. "Much too short. Close the door please, Beckett."

She complied. "Did the girls have fun? Where'd you go, sir?"

Not wanting to go into detail, Montgomery responded simply "Yes, they love the beach. Can I see your open cases, detective?"

"Yes sir." She handed the folders over.

Montgomery set them on his blotter, and opened the first one. He read for a few seconds, then commented, "Still no sign of the weapon in the Miller case?"

"No, sir. CSU has gone over the property with a fine toothed comb. We've used metal detectors throughout the condo. We've checked all the panes of glass for tampering, and all the walls for hiding places. Nothing." Beckett gave her boss a brief smile." If I hear one more joker try to tell me about some mythical non-metallic gun, like the Glock 7 in that Die Hard movie, I'm going to shoot them with a real Glock. There is no way to propel a 9mm bullet without a metal gun. We'll find it, sir."

No return smile. "I hope so detective. The DA sent me a memo. If we can't come up with the murder weapon within the next few days, he's going to have to allow bail for the suspect."

"Will we be able to keep the crime scene sealed?"

"I doubt it."

"Sir, if she gets access to her condo, she'll get rid of the weapon for sure."

"I am aware of that, detective!" Montgomery snapped, sounding testy. "Next case. Ah. Our 'shooting ladder' vic. What's the latest on the window cleaner?"

"Sir, Doctor Permlutter is convinced it was a professional hit. The bullet was a 22 long, which is subsonic and allows for effective silencing. It was a helluva shot. Our vic was 20 feet up the ladder, which was easily 15 feet off the sidewalk. A single shot entered the exact middle of the nape of his neck, with sufficient velocity to travel up through the tonsils and enter the cranium. No shell casing, so he cleaned up after himself. According to the ME, the round did not have enough penetrating power to go through the skull, so it just 'rattled around inside his head for a while'. Very effective.

There is nothing in the vic's history to suggest anything criminal. Never had so much as a speeding ticket. He has no close relatives or friends that are suspicious, and no associations with loan sharks have been found. There is absolutely no reason for a contract killer to target him. I am beginning to think this wasn't a hit, but a random target. We are coordinating with the feds to see if there are any vics with similar M.O.'s in the tristate area."

"Do the feds want the case?"

"No sir, not unless it's a proven serial, and interstate."

"Okay. Next. The hijackers. Status?"

This was a sore subject with Beckett. Once more, she and her team found herself working with Demming. The same crew Demming had been chasing for months upped the ante, and a truck driver fell or was pushed to his death on the highway. Unlike the first few times they'd worked together, the animosity between Demming and her team was in full display. This time, however, it flowed from her partners towards the Robbery Detective, instead of the other way around. She tried to remain professional, but wasn't always successful. She knew it was ultimately her fault that Castle wouldn't even speak to her anymore, but that didn't stop a huge surge of resentment towards Demming. They worked with a minimum of contact, and as few words as possible.

"Sir, we've reviewed Detective Demming's notes on the case. There is no commonality between the victims that is readily apparent. The hijackers have done a very good job to date of leaving little or no evidence behind. They target valuable yet easily convertible items, so there is little opportunity to apprehend them during the resale of the stolen merchandise. I am confident an in depth examination of all the victims will provide a common thread enabling us to identify the perpetrators."

Montgomery stared at her. When Beckett went all formal and started using 'court speak' to him, there was something bothering her. So he asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, sir."

He continued his stare for a few more seconds, then moved to the next file. This was from last week when he was gone, so he read for a minute before looking up. "Okay. Now we have Melanie, the young woman on the playground roundabout."

"Yes sir. Through some excellent work from Detectives Esposito and Ryan, we have broken the boyfriend's alibi. We put a BOLO out on him Friday. With the ME toxicology report delivered this morning, we now know she was on ecstasy, which he was known to deal on occasion. That's given us sufficient probable cause to issue an arrest warrant, and we upgraded our search to an APB. We know he's still in town; I found a bartender who served him last night." She'd been chasing this asshole all weekend.

"Good. Last file." He opened it and read the summary page through. There wasn't much. "Have you even identified her yet?"

"Yes sir. Her name was Shannon Davis, and she worked as a junior associate at a prestigious law firm in midtown. She was reported as missing on Saturday, and we had the next of kin, her parents, positively identify her remains yesterday. I just completed the initial interview. They are naturally very distraught, but are adamant that Shannon had very little life outside of work. As a 2nd year associate, she was assigned to one of their full partners, and would typically work 90 hours a week. We searched her apartment yesterday. There is no sign of a boyfriend, or any life outside of work. I've invited her boss here for an interview later today, and hopefully we'll get access to the cases she was working on."

"Very good." Montgomery shut the file, placed it on the stack with the other five folders, and sat back in his captain's chair. He looked her over. "So, how are you doing, Kate?"

"I'm fine, sir. Thank you for asking."

"Still got a cold?"

"It comes and goes. It's mostly from running in and out of air conditioning."

"When was the last time you took a day off."

"Well sir, I took off and went riding the other day." On a whim, she had joined a motorcycle club last month. It was almost all young professionals, and they arranged rides every weekend. She'd been on two. It had been a long time since she'd gone further than a few miles on her Harley. She'd found it deeply relaxing and exhilarating at the same time. She'd discovered once again that 'soft tail' was a misnomer; she'd been sore as hell after only a hundred mile ride.

"Detective Beckett, that was three weeks ago. I distinctly remember threatening you if you came in that day."

"Yes sir." Totally non-committal.

"Hmph. Kate, I need to be blunt. Your team is in a slump, and it's being noticed. You've had eleven cases since the first of June. That's about two a week, which, as you know, is typical in the summer. Four were open and shut, three domestics and a bar fight. Of the remaining seven, five are open."

As Beckett began to protest, Montgomery rose a hand, silencing her. "I know what you're going to say, and I pretty much agree with you. Homicide investigations do not run on a time table. You are making inroads on some of the cases. That being said, you are short a partner, and are running yourself ragged. I don't ever remember you having five open cases at any one time. Plus, Karpowski was called out today, so you're next again in the rotation. Therefore, it has been suggested from on high that you add a teammate to pick up some of the slack, which will allow you and Esposito and Ryan to avoid burning yourselves out.

So, until further notice, you and Esposito and Ryan will take a minimum of one full day off a week. No sneaking into the precinct, or conducting interviews, nor any outside investigating. One day EACH. Unless there's a fresh case, I don't want any of you here before 8 am or after 8 pm. Furthermore, at least one of your team will have a full weekend off, regardless if you're on call or not. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes, sir. Uh, sir, what's the process for picking a new member of the team?'"

Montgomery let some of his frustrations leak out. "Apparently, the process has been modified. Streamlined. Instead of me picking someone I see with a lot of potential and training them, I now go to a meeting at 1PP with the commissioner and a deputy commissioner and am told who to select."

"Uh-oh. Who'd they tell you to select?"

"Well detective, their reasoning was that this detective was already familiar with your methods, having helped you close three cases this spring, and he's already working with you on the fourth."

Montgomery found it interesting to watch the detective's face change colors. Her face got red, then blanched white, than red again, all in a few seconds. She blurted "No way!"

"Beckett, if there was …"

"Sir, there's a history there that I'd rather not get into, but the morale of the team would be negatively affected if Detective Demming were to become a full time member of the team."

"Beckett, I'm not without resources. This is not a permanent transfer, but a three month temporary assignment, tracking back to the hijack case on June 30th. It is to enable your team to catch up as well as catch your breaths. It can be extended as we see fit." Montgomery's voice changed to one of pure disgust. "According to Uncle Deputy Commissioner, it will help nephew Demming become more rounded."

"Uncle Deputy Commissioner? You've got to be kidding me."

"No, unfortunately. You know how I've always enjoyed all that political BS and the old boy's network. However, detective, there is a silver lining in this. Two, in fact.

"I'd like to hear them, sir."

"First, it's only three months, which takes us through September. Secondly, you and I get to share the duty of writing his review, and rating him on his performance for those three months."

Beckett's smile flickered. "Yes, sir. I'd like to inform my team of these developments." She stood and thought a second, then ventured, "Sir, what if Castle wants to return before that?" She still held out hope that he'd be back at the start of the school year, despite his total lack of communication.

"I don't know how likely that is, Beckett." Montgomery said, thinking back to some of their discussions last week. A sudden thought struck him. "However, I do believe that a mayor trumps a deputy commissioner." He looked up at her. "We are all professionals here, right? This isn't going to be a problem, is it, Detective?"

Beckett picked up the case files. "Nothing I can't handle, sir." She spun on her heels and hiked out of the office.


	13. A Hail Mary

**Monday, July 12th - Noon**

**(70 days before the incident)**

Ryan, trying to map the routes of all of the trucks immediately prior to their hijacking, became aware of a wonderful aroma. He looked up from his computer terminal into the eyes of his team leader, than shifted them to the bag in her hands, then back up to her eyes. "Is that another lunch from M &amp; M's."

"Yep."

"Is that for us?"

"Yep."

"This is going to be bad, isn't it?"

Beckett grimaced. "Pretty much. Where's Esposito?"

"We still think Mr. Ecstasy, Melanie's boyfriend, is hiding out at his cousins in Newark. Javier's coordinating that warrant you wanted with our friends over in New Jersey so we can to hit the place this afternoon. He'll be back in a … there he is."

Esposito walked up to Beckett, glanced at the bag in her hand, then parroted Ryan. "This is going to be bad, isn't it?"

Beckett shook her head. "C'mon, guys." She led the way into the conference room, where she once again spread out the sandwiches, chips, cookies, and waters on the table. Beckett grabbed a seat. "Dig in, gentlemen."

Esposito and Ryan sat side by side, grabbing their meals. Esposito asked, "What's up, boss? Something happen with Montgomery?" They couldn't help but notice her status meeting in the Captain's office went about three times as long as normal.

"Yeah." She took a bite and finished it. "First of all, good job gentlemen, on the boyfriend's alibi. I let Montgomery know that you were the ones that broke his story." Another bite, chew, and swallow. "Next: Montgomery doesn't want any of us to burn out this summer. He has ordered each of us to take a minimum of one full, uninterrupted day off every week. Cut down on our hours. Also, one of you will be required to take the entire weekend off starting Friday, and the other one of you takes next weekend. We'll cycle through the rest of the team and then repeat."

"The rest of the team?" Esposito looked around. "What aren't you telling us, Beckett?"

Beckett looked extremely unhappy. "Before coming in this morning, Montgomery was called into a meeting at 1PP. It's been noticed that we haven't closed some of our cases as quickly as we usually do, so they decided we needed some help. I want to stress to both of you that this wasn't Montgomery's fault, and he was adamantly opposed to the idea."

Ryan asked, "Who was at the meeting, boss?"

"The Police Commissioner and the Deputy Commissioner of Traffic."

The men looked at each other. Espo muttered, "Oh, shit!"

Ryan put his sandwich down, starting to shake his head. "You can't be serious?"

Beckett looked from one to the other. "How do you guys know what I'm talking about?"

Ryan responded. "Castle told us before he left. When all that crap was coming down on him, he checked Dumming out. You know, his last month. He found out Dumming's connected. Not only an uncle that's a DC of Traffic, but relatives all over 1PP, in IAD, and he even has an Uncle that's captain over at the 133rd."

Esposito added, "Why do you think we backed off him last spring? We were willing to take our chances, but Castle knew it would be very tough on us if it got out that we'd pounded the jerk." Esposito got even angrier. "So what now, Beckett? The asshole runs Castle out and takes his place, just like he wanted? How is that fair to anyone? It just makes your screw-up with Castle worse. You really think we want to work with the turd, after what he did?"

"No, I don't. And you shouldn't have to." She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to avoid the onset of a headache. "There's no reason for us all to be miserable. You two will remain partners. I will work with Dumm, er, Demming only when all four of us are active. If one of you is out for the day, the other one of you partners with me. Demming will have other duties.

I know he's a detective second and outranks you guys, but on this team he's the newbie. If there's any dumpster diving, door-to-door canvassing, or hours of video to view, he's the guy." This made Ryan smile for the first time since entering the room. Beckett went on: "At the same time, our mission is to solve homicides. Protect and Serve. We have a backlog, and we need to clear them the fastest way possible. We can't afford to let this screw us up by distracting us. You guys are part of the best homicide team in the city. Using Demming as a gopher for three months will not change that, and might actually help."

"Three months? That's what, mid-October? What if Castle wants to come back before that?" Of course, it would be Ryan that asked the question.

"Castle can return anytime, in any capacity he wants. If he came back full time, we'd hopefully get to kick Demming back to Robbery. I'd like nothing better. As Montgomery said, the mayor outranks the deputy commissioner." She paused, then added sadly "I can't help but think that he's moved on, though." She then asked tentatively, "Have you heard from him, Kevin?"

"Yeah, couple of weeks ago. He had to do a big rewrite or something, but he said he was close to finishing the book."

"Oh. Good. Well, if you talk to him, tell him I said 'hello'. Make sure he knows he's always welcome here." She started to eat her lunch, thinking bleak thoughts. It had taken her a month to finally realize that he wasn't going to respond to any of her messages. She really couldn't blame him for avoiding her. In hindsight, what she had allowed to happen his last month was unforgivable. It was probably the worst thing she'd ever done in her life to another person, and that person was supposed to be her partner. Her friend. She should have realized that his grandiose speech was a parting shot, Castle's way of saying goodbye.

There was an expression her Mom used to say in certain circumstances. 'You can't lose what you never had'. She didn't actually lose her partner, because she'd never treated him as a partner. She'd treated him as a nuisance, an annoying tag-along that had been forced on her, and she'd taken for granted all the great things he brought to the team. She'd minimized all the wonderful things he personally did for her. Her regrets and her guilt were still weighing heavily on her conscience, but she refused to let it affect her work. Much. Even without his help on the team, though, she still just plain missed his presence. Castle had brought an almost childlike wonder to their mundane existence, and she now felt the absence of that joy acutely. She knew she was being over-dramatic, but since Castle left everything seemed duller. Paler. Washed-out.

She mechanically finished half her sandwich. She didn't feel like eating anything else. "Guys, I am so sorry about how all of this unfolded. I wish I could do something better than apologize, and admit that I was an idiot. I really wish I had better advice for you, but all I can say is 'Hang in there. This too shall pass.' " She grabbed her water and stood up. "Help yourselves to the rest of the food.

After you both are through eating, follow up with Jersey. I want Melanie's asshole boyfriend in custody before he can hurt anybody else. If possible, have them put eyes on the cousin, see if we can spot our guy. I have Shannon Davis's boss coming in for an interview in about an hour, but keep me posted on the takedown. I'd like to be there if at all possible."

"Hey boss, where's Dumming going to sit?"

She thought about it. "Since this is a temp assignment, I don't think he needs to move up here. We'll keep him away from us, on the 3rd floor. If need be, he can borrow Nicole Crichton's desk occasionally while she's out on maternity leave." Beckett gave them a tight smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to orient our new teammate to his new reality. I'm sure he has no idea what he's walking into, so this should actually be enjoyable."

Esposito and Ryan glanced at each other as she walked out. After she'd left the room, Ryan commented "Espo, I got a bad feeling about this."

Esposito finished the last past of his sandwich, and swallowed. "Me too. I am as pissed at Beckett as I can ever remember. I see three possibilities, bro. Beckett does something stupid, and trashes her career. Or, Demming does something stupid, Beckett retaliates, and trashes her career. Or, they both do something stupid, we are forced to intervene, and all of our careers are fucked."

"There's a fourth possibility. We get Castle to come back. Soon."

"I don't know, partner. Last time we talked, every time I mentioned Beckett's name he changed the subject. That was last month."

"Yeah, same here. Funny thing. He sounded surprised, not that Beckett had dumped Dumming, but when. I told him it was the day he left, and it was like he didn't believe me. Told me I was wrong, and changed the subject."

"I don't see how that helps us."

"Yeah, but Javi, think about it. There were three main reasons Castle stuck around. Admittedly, the big one was obviously Beckett. But he also stayed because he loved the job, and he loved the mysteries. We have two or three mysteries sitting around, messing up our closure rate. He's invited us out to his place on Long Island. What if we each visit him the next two weekends."

Esposito smiled. "And take some juicy case files!"

"It can't hurt."

"You know what, Kevin? After what Beckett did, or didn't do, and now with Dumming joining us - even if it is bullshit and temporary - if I were Castle I wouldn't come back. But, I agree, we'll take some open cases up there with us. Hell, if he can help us get our solve rate back up, maybe Montgomery can get the brass to back off before something bad happens."

"It's a plan. Kind of. Sounds like a Hail Mary."

"A Hail Mary _is_ a plan. It's all we got for now. Who goes up on Friday?"

"Roshambo?"

"Okay. Two out of three, on 'Go'. One … Two … Three … GO!"


	14. Closing Cases

**Thursday, July 27th **

**(53 days before the incident)**

Beckett was just finishing up one last form before calling it a night. It was only a little past 7 pm, and she was looking forward to a celebratory beer with two thirds of her team. They had closed seven separate cases in ten days, which had to be some kind of record. It certainly beat anything she'd ever done before. So, beers tonight, administrative tasks tomorrow, and hopefully a long motorcycle ride this weekend in Pennsylvania with some other enthusiasts.

She was looking forward to an evening with Esposito and Ryan. She'd ordered Demming to escort their newest prisoner to Ryker's, get him processed in, then re-question him to check any deviations of his story. She didn't want Demming around her other two partners, because she had some suspicions she wanted to confirm. Her hunch was so strong, she had co-opted Lanie in helping her 'butt kick' the boys. They should have plenty of time to get the boys to 'fess up'.

Lanie emerged from the elevator and walked over to Beckett's desk. "Ready?"

The detective grinned. "Perfect timing." She signed her name at the bottom, returned the form to the proper folder, and put the folder in her 'done' pile. She stood. "Ready to grab a beer and kick some butt?"

Lanie grinned. "Eternally." As they moved back towards the elevator, she asked her tall friend, "Why are we kicking butt again?"

"Okay. This is going to take some explaining. It all started about ten days ago when Esposito got back from his weekend. I was just on my way in Monday morning when Espo texted me to meet him at the Miller crime scene. When I arrived, he had a CSU tech and a videographer there with Ryan. He showed me some of the pictures from the case file. One photo was of the fireplace taken from across the room. He pointed out the little handle for opening and closing the flue on the side of the mantel. Another picture was a close-up of the ashes from practically inside the fireplace. At the top of the picture you could see the flue, which was this huge, thick, smoke-blackened hunk of metal. So Espo goes on to explain to me that the handle was way too small to move this big hunk of metal. He got the tech to reach up and remove the flue, which turned out to be two curved pieces of metal screwed together. They unscrewed it, and we found a tiny Seecamp 380 subcompact, totally disassembled." At Lanie's questioning look, Beckett explained "It's this tiny gun, fits in the palm of your hand. About 5 inches long and only two inches wide when it's put together. Anyway, we took the pieces in to evidence. An hour later we had the widow's fingerprints off the pieces. Tech reassembled it, and found it had been retrofitted to handle 9mm. We got a match from the murder bullet as soon as we test fired. The Widow Miller started talking deal as soon as we showed her the weapon."

They left the elevator, walked thru the lobby, and turned left for the three block walk to the bar. Lanie asked, "Good for Esposito. Why are we kicking his butt for solving a case?"

"Seriously? Since when is Esposito an expert on fireplaces, or notices things like that?" Beckett rolled her eyes. "Wait, there's more. We were called out after that on the Lykins case, which took a couple of days to wrap up. Then that Thursday, I walked into the conference room to find Ryan and Espo working on this huge new road map of the New York City area. They were tracing the routes of all the hijacked trucks. But instead of tracking them from when they'd picked up their loads, like I'd asked them, they were tracking them from when their manifests had been issued. In some cases, especially with the local truckers, they'd had the paperwork for their planned pick-ups a few days in advance. We discovered that every one of those trucks had gone through the weigh station on I-278 up near LaGuardia after they had their manifests issued, but before they'd been robbed. We checked the hours and work schedule from NY DOT, and only one guy had been working when every truck that was hit had been there. It was his job to pick the loads to rob and place a tracking device on the trucks. We picked him up and squeezed him, and he coughed up the whole crew."

They paused for a cross walk. "Again, Kate, I have to ask 'So what?'. That sounds like good police work."

"Good? It was inspired! Plus, that map must have cost five hundred bucks. Where'd it come from? Then the next day, I come into the bullpen and they're talking to someone on the speakerphone. They look guilty as hell, and hang up right away. I no sooner sit down then they're at my desk with an idea how to fix Demming's screw up on the Davis case."

Beckett took a deep breath. She was still furious at what happened that afternoon after her lunch with the boys. After 'welcoming' Demming to the team by giving him a head-shrinking lecture on his role on her team, informing him that he was low man on the homicide totem pole and would be treated as such, they entered their nicest meeting room. She warned him to follow her lead as they welcomed in Kurt Whitehead III, full partner in the firm Bramlet &amp; Stokes. She sat in a chair opposite Whitehead, and expressed her condolences for the loss of his protégé. She very delicately started asking about Shannon's friends at work, boyfriends, her daily routine, her case load, and whether there were any rivalries. It became more and more obvious that the high powered attorney was hiding something, as he grew more and more evasive. Suddenly, Demming goes all 'bad cop' on the lawyer, threatening him with 'dire consequences' if he didn't come clean.

Naturally, being a knowledgeable lawyer, Whitehead instantly clammed up. Worse, he instructed Beckett that no contact with himself or any employee of his firm would be permissible without the presence of an attorney. Beckett was beside herself. After the lawyer had stormed off, she spent twenty minutes reading Demming the riot act. He tried to defend himself ("_You weren't getting anywhere with him_" and "_Good cop – bad cop had worked for us before_"). She informed him that if he didn't know the difference between an interrogation and information gathering, he should go back to Robbery where he belonged. Castle had known the difference instinctively.

So, before she could even start to investigate the case, she was stopped cold. They had applied for, and been denied, a list of current and former employees from the firm. She continued to Lanie as they crossed the street, "So, the boys explained to me that Bramlet &amp; Stokes is one of the largest employers of legal interns in the city. Dozens of law students from NYU and Columbia cycle through the firm every year. Any not still with the firm were fair game. We called the respective schools, and got the list of interns from the past three years. From there, it was simple police work." There were several current and former law students that were happy to relate the unwanted advances and terrible temper of Whitehead's mentor, Benjamin Stokes. It was more than enough probable cause to get the warrants and compel a DNA test. After that, it was a slam dunk. Not only that, but the older attorney's DNA matched up with an unsolved from the 19th precinct.

"I don't understand, Kate. You're mad because they're solving cases?"

"NO! I'm not mad at all, but I don't like them holding out on me. Okay, get this. This past Monday really early Ryan texts me an address I was unfamiliar with. When I arrive, I'm in front of a six story apartment building about a block and a half from our ladder vic's church. The boys are on the sidewalk out front. Ryan starts in on me before I get out of the car. He says 'Okay, Beckett, imagine this. What if the guy on the ladder wasn't standing straight up on the ladder, but leaning way over and in to clean the windows?' And he demonstrates by bending all the way over from the waist. Now, who's that sound like."

"That's what Castle always says."

"Exactly."

Lanie thinks about it. "So, the shot wasn't from the sidewalk? If the vic was leaning in, the shot would have come from behind and above him!"

"Right. He and Espo had put the ladder up where it had been, and looking back from the top found the most likely sniper post. So we checked the roof, and it looked like the end of a shooting gallery. Broken bottles, broken plates, and pieces of paper targets and balloons. When we aligned the bullet holes, they all originated from a church steeple a block away. I left the boys on the roof waiting for CSU, and went up to the steeple. Looking out, I could clearly see the roof, and just beyond it, the church with the ladder and stained glass windows."

"So, some sniper shot a window washer?"

"Nope. Kids. One of them was the vicars kid. They had an old, bolt-action 22 rifle. Shell casings all over the bell tower, where they'd been shooting targets off one of the other kid's apartment building roof. That day, they were shooting at mylar balloons they'd anchored on the roof. Didn't even know they'd hurt anyone."

"I still don't understand why you're upset."

Beckett looked at her friend. "We have been nominated by the Police Commissioner to be recognized as the best department in the city for this month. All four of us." She rolled her eyes. "Except it wasn't the four of us if you're including Demming. It was the four of us if you include Castle." She shook her head. "Look. I screwed up with Castle, big time. I know that. I want him to come back to the team. BOTH my guys know that. In the last week there are four of our seven solved cases that sure sound like Castle had rejoined the team remotely. Except, everyone's trying to keep it secret from me. This is MY team, but we're be recognized for something we really didn't do, and I'm tired of being treated like a mushroom by TweedleDee and TweedleDum!"

They reached the bar and Lanie swung the door open. "Hence the butt kickin'?"

"Hence the butt kickin'." She smiled at her shorter friend. "Plus, we all enjoy a little friendly butt kickin' every once in a while, right?"

Lanie grinned. "Right." They walked out of the heat into the cool shadows of the bar. They spotted the boys in a booth about halfway towards the back, and made their way through the early crowd. Ryan saw them coming and jumped up to get more glasses. Lanie slid in where Ryan had been sitting, and Kate sat next to her. They greeted Esposito as Ryan rejoined them, pouring each a glass from the pitcher of beer on the table.

Beckett picked her glass up, waited for the head to subside somewhat, and said, "Great job, gentlemen. Cheers."

"Cheers!" They all clinked glasses together and took a cool drink. Esposito said, "Including today's open and shut, and that guy that finally got shipped in from Jersey yesterday, that's what? Seven cases in ten days. Are we good, or what?"

"I think it's … 'or what?'" Beckett took another sip of beer. "So guys, how's Castle?"

Esposito smiled down into his beer, as Ryan looked up, his eyebrows raised. "What?"

"I asked 'How's Castle' ?"

"Oh, fine, I guess." Ryan looked at Esposito, who agreed. "Yeah, he's okay."

"Good." Everyone took another drink. Beckett sighed. "C'mon guys, talk to me."

Esposito kept smiling. "Well, we each had a full weekend off, so we figured we'd take advantage of his invitation. I went up to the Hamptons ten days ago, and Ryan went up this past weekend."

"So, you just happened to take copies of our open case files?"

Ryan shrugged, his blue eyes twinkling. "Well, I could have taken a bottle of wine, you know, as a thank-you gift. But, he's already got all the wine he needs, and it's better stuff than anything I could afford. And, you know how he loves a good mystery. So, we took him some."

"Yes, everyone knows he likes a good mystery. So, come on, keep talkin'. How's he doing? What did you guys do?"

Esposito said, "Well, he's great, and I had a ball. On Saturday we went racing. They have a place up there that has both a LeMans track and a mile-and-a-half oval you can run time trials on. They have about a dozen muscle cars you can use."

"You're kidding." Beckett's eyes blazed with jealousy.

"I kid you not. They had a Camaro Z-28, an old Stingray, a GTO, a Barracuda. I ran a '67 Shelby and a '71 Charger with a 440. It was awesome." Esposito laughed. "Castle tried an old Trans Am. He kept telling me to call him 'The Bandit', then he spun it out on a turn." The others chuckled. " Then on Saturday night, we went to a great Tapas place called _Trabajárselo._"

Lanie thought back to her High School Spanish. She laughed again. "Sing for your Supper? Esposito, you didn't!"

"Hey, I'll have you know I've got a great voice."

Ryan commented, "Couldn't prove it by me. What did you sing?" Esposito mumbled something.

"What was that, partner?"

"Say you Say me"

They all laughed. Lanie said, "Lionel Richie, Esposito? Are you kidding me?"

"Hey, everyone in the place applauded. I thought some chicas at another table were going to swoon!"

"Swoon!" More laughter. Beckett asked, "So, what did Castle sing?"

Esposito broke into a huge grin. "He didn't. When it was his turn, he stood up and said he was going to do a poetry reading. He got booed unmercifully. So he pulls out his phone, looks something up, and does this totally over-the-top, dramatic reading of the lyrics of Shoot to Thrill by AC-DC. It may have been the funniest fucking thing I've ever heard." His singing and Castle's wit had gone a long way to impressing two very pretty women up there celebrating a birthday. Nothing his co-workers needed to know about. A quick smile flashed across his face. "You know, boss, maybe you should get up there on your weekend off."

Beckett rolled her eyes and snorted, while refilling everyone's glasses, emptying the pitcher. "Not likely. So, Kevin, what did you do up there?"

"I raced too, but not cars. A friend of Castle was in a big sailboat regatta, and needed crew."

"You sailed all weekend? No wonder you were so sun burnt."

He nodded. "Three races on Saturday, one on Sunday. I'd never been sailing before. It's really confusing at first, 'cause they never call ropes 'ropes' or sails 'sails'. They're always sheets, halyards, jibs, spinnakers, and mains. But, oh my God! I thought it would be boring. When you find yourself STANDING on the SIDE of your boat, leaning as far over as you can so the boat doesn't tip over, your head about three feet above the waves rushing past, only connected to the boat by a little wire that you're hanging on to for dear life, with another boat bearing down on you on a collision course about 100 feet away, it gets kind of exciting, you know?"

Esposito said, "You never told me that, Bro. How'd you guys do?"

Ryan took a big drink. "First race we came in 4th. Third race we had to do better than that to qualify for Sunday, and we came in 2nd. On Sunday we took 3rd, which was good enough for a trophy. There was also a big beach party for the sailors Saturday night." One that included an Aussie all-girl crew, making the weekend one of his best ever. "We qualified for this big regatta Labor Day weekend up around Martha's Vineyard, and they asked me to come up and crew if I can get off work."

"Castle too?"

Ryan shook his head at Beckett. "No. They really don't want Castle. In the second race, Castle was the skipper, and we got too close to the shore."

Lanie smiled. "Oh, no. Did you run aground?"

"No, but we totally lost the wind. We just sat there in dead air as every other boat sailed past, waving. Out of eleven boats, we came in twelfth."

Everybody laughed.

Beckett asked, "So .. ?"

Esposito looked at her. "So?"

"Is he coming back?"

Ryan said. "Little Castle and he are going to Europe for a book tour in August. Her school doesn't start until after Labor Day."

Beckett looked at both of them. "Then what?"

Esposito shrugged. "He keeps saying, 'Well see', like he doesn't know, or hasn't figured it out yet."

Beckett looked at her glass. "Damn." She grabbed the pitcher and said, "I'll get this one."

After she stepped away, Lanie turned to the detectives, keeping her voice down. "What's wrong with Castle? Isn't he done pouting yet?"

"Hey, Doc, whoa!" Esposito held his palm up. "First, none of this is Castle's fault. She's the one that screwed up, then screwed up again by not apologizing."

"Hey, I KNOW that. But she wants to, and can't, 'cause he won't talk to her."

Ryan shook his head. "Lanie, you weren't there, so I don't know if you realize how bad it was for our boy. You're right though, we all thought he'd forgive and forget by now. Something else happened to piss him off. Are you sure Beckett hasn't talked to him?"

"Positive. She pretty much gave up trying, except for texting every other day."

Esposito said, "Ryan and I thought giving him some cases would help, and maybe it did. Why don't we see if we can get them together when he gets back from Europe."

Lanie nodded. "It's a plan." She smiled at her friend when Beckett approached the table. She put her glass down in front of her. "Hey, Kate, fill her up!"


	15. Incident - prologue

**Monday, September 20th - 12th Precinct**

**(The day of the incident)**

Demming took the steps two at a time, completed paperwork in the folder firmly clutched in his hand. He couldn't wait until this month was over. What had he been thinking, joining this team? They may be the best homicide squad in the city, but they were total assholes. Esposito and Ryan had as little to do with him as possible. They continued to call him 'Dumming', and went out of their way to make this temporary assignment as tough as possible. Every scut job, every mundane task, was instantly assigned to him. He never rode with either of them, and when they worked as a full team they spoke to him as little as possible, and only if Beckett wasn't around. If their team lead was there, it was 'Hey, boss, why don't you have Dumming check out those dumpsters?' or 'Beckett, we need a volunteer to question some homeless in the park. Know anyone?'

It was actually worse with Beckett. She was completely cold and overbearing. When she wasn't reprimanding him for some slight oversight, she was deathly silent. There was absolutely no camaraderie, no partnership, no personal relationship of any kind. He'd learned more in the three weeks he'd helped with cases in the spring then the almost three months he'd been ostensibly a member of her team.

Robbery was a cakewalk compared to this. Their work hours were absolutely appalling. Twelve hours a day, six days a week. He'd had two weekends off in three months. It was an extremely high-pressure job, and Demming'd had little opportunity to blow off any steam. The one time he'd walked in to join them for drinks after work, they'd instantly risen as a group and walked out. It was obvious to all the others present in the cop bar that he was being ostracized. It was embarrassing and infuriating.

The absolute worst, though, was the constant comparisons to Castle he was subjected to. 'Castle thought of this' and 'Castle did that', _ad nauseum_. Demming's dislike of Castle had grown into a full blown hatred. When he tried to build theory at the murder board, he was told in no uncertain terms that he was _not_ Castle, and maybe he should go fetch some coffee for everybody who was actually contributing. He was tired of hearing how Castle had shot a gun out of a nut's hand, saving Beckett's life. That was totally against police procedure, which taught cops to drop a threat by shooting center mass. When he'd suggested that it wasn't that tough a shot and he could easily have done the same, Beckett warned him that any attempt to replicate that feat would earn him a huge reprimand and probable suspension. He couldn't win.

At least his temporary assignment was almost over. He'd behaved himself despite the team's provocations. The team's record during his tenure was exemplary, having been awarded a city-wide honor as the best department of the month. He was confident that his review wouldn't be too bad, despite Beckett's animosity. Several other homicide squads had been receptive to having Demming join them, hoping to capture Beckett's magic for their team. Demming knew he was a good cop. He'd be a welcome addition to his next team, and these last three months would become just another stepping stone towards his career goals.

As he entered the bullpen, he noticed Beckett exiting the file room with several folders. As she walked past Ryan's desk, a raw egg fell off his desk and splatted on the floor. The pretty detective smiled at her partners, a smile Demming rarely saw. "Are you guys reenacting the Humpty Dumpty crime scene?"

Ryan looked embarrassed. "It's the autumnal equinox today."

Esposito smirked. "Yeah, and according to Mr. Wizard there, it's the only time you can balance an egg on its tip."

"Don't you guys have work to do?"

"Nah."

Ryan added "No, not really."

Beckett took a folder off the stack in her hands. "Well, now you do." She threw the file on Ryan's desk and pointed to the egg mess on the floor, the 'clean this up' clearly implied. She added "By the way, the thing with the egg is just urban legend."

The Irish detective objected. "Not true. I saw Castle do it last year."

The mention of the writer made Beckett pause. Esposito smacked Ryan upside the head. "What's wrong with you?" He turned to Beckett "Still no word from him?"

"No."

Ryan hesitantly suggested "Maybe you should call him."

"Yeah, because that's been so effective this summer. You said his tour ended this month and it's the 20th, so clearly he has better things to do." Just then, her desk phone rang. She frowned at Demming as she retreated to her chair. "Beckett!". They saw her shoulders slump, and heard the disappointed "Yeah."

* * *

Beckett and Demming exited her car. Ryan already on the sidewalk, greeted her "Ooh, speaking of Humpty Dumpty."

Beckett's smile flickered "Maybe somebody tried to stand her up on her head. After all, it is the autumnal equinox."

Lanie shook her head. "It wasn't the fall that killed her. More like multiple gunshot wounds to the torso before doing a Greg Louganis out that window up there."

Esposito joined them. "Victim's name is Chloe Whitman. A couple of pedestrians heard shots and saw the body fall out the window, but when uniforms got here the apartment was empty. There's no doorman here, and so far no one recalls seeing anyone flee the scene."

Beckett turned to Demming. "Alright, have some uniforms help you and start knocking on doors. Find out what else our neighbors didn't see."

Dismissed, Demming stalked off, obviously fuming.

Esposito looked at his two partners. "Is it my imagination, or is Dumming close to cracking?"

Ryan looked back at his partner, and caught movement in the window behind him. "Hey, it's Castle." They all turned to see a life-sized cardboard cutout of him being set up. There's also a sign announcing a personal appearance for this Friday "Looks like he is back in town."

Lanie scowled. "Nice of him to call."

Beckett tore her eyes away from the window display "Alright guys, back to work. After all, we've got a body full of holes. So what else do we know about our victim?"

Esposito checked his notes. "She's got a boyfriend. Evan Murphy. He's on his way."

"Okay, let's go upstairs and see what else we can find."

* * *

They were just finishing questioning the boyfriend. He had no idea who would want to hurt her. How many enemies does a well-liked chemistry teacher make, anyway? He also had no idea why she had a suitcase packed, or where she was going. Beckett checked her purse, and it was obvious it wasn't a robbery. Demming joined them, having come up empty on the canvas.

Lanie entered the apartment, waving an evidence bag. She handed the bag to Beckett. "Victim had it in her hand. It was in her fingers so tight I almost didn't see it."

"This is an address in Tribeca. Could be where she was going."

Esposito shrugs. "Only one way to find out."

* * *

The four detectives walked down the hallway together. Ryan looked up from his phone "Address is registered to a Maya Santori, 32. She's clean, no priors."

Beckett was reading apartment numbers. "417?"

"Yeah."

Esposito points to a door "Right there." His voice drops to a whisper. "It's open."

The four all draw guns. Peering in the apartment, there's no one visible, but the place is trashed. They enter, and hear movement and a muffled curse from the other room. There were two doors that entered the other room, separated by a window with frosted glass. Ryan and Esposito took the right hand door, Demming and Beckett the left. They nodded at each other, and simultaneously kicked in their respective doors.

Beckett yelled "NYPD" as Esposito shouted "Let me see your hands!"

A man, crouched behind the bed, began to stand with his hands raised. He looked between Ryan and Esposito, a relieved smile on his face. He had a cell phone in one hand, and a large revolver in the other. He said, shakily, "Oh, Thank God. I am so glad to see you guys. I was beginning to think I was in real trouble."

The detectives paused, caught off guard. They looked incredulous. Beckett, not really believing her eyes, asked, "Castle?"

He turned, seemingly noticing the other detectives near the far door for the first time. "Beckett?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I … uh …" he gestured towards the dead woman's body with his gun hand.

Beckett calmed her voice. "Rick, put the gun down."

He looked at the gun as if surprised to see it in his hand. "Oh, sure." He spun around as he lowered his hands, moving towards a small table beside the bed.

Demming had no idea what came over him. The three months of abuse, the constant Castle stories, all seemed to coalesce into a sudden need to prove himself. He tightened his stance and drew a bead on the big revolver in his nemesis' hand. An easy shot for someone who consistently qualified as an expert on the range. A millisecond before he pulled the trigger, he heard Beckett yell "NO!" as she slammed into his arm.

The shot rang out and Castle went down, a stunned expression on his face, a spray of blood splashing the far wall.


	16. The Incident

**Monday, September 20th - Tribeca**

**(The incident - Castle POV)**

Castle had been on his way back from a book signing when Maya called him.

Gina, probably out of sheer spite, had scheduled his first 10 days back in the city with at least two signings every freaking day. As much as he enjoyed meeting his fans, he was burning out. These local appearances came after having visited a different city in the US every day for two straight weeks, which had come on the heels of a three week European book launch and tour.

When he'd answered the phone, Maya had started talking a mile a minute. The only things he could make sense of was 'no cops' and 'meet now'. He agreed to meet the struggling artist immediately. He welcomed the diversion, and she sounded seriously freaked out. He'd bought sculptures from her twice before, and he thought her an entertaining and extremely talented metal sculptor. Hot, too. Fortunately, he was close to her place. It only took a few minutes to cut over to the other side of Tribeca, and he lucked into a parking spot on her block. He walked across the unmanned lobby and entered the elevator, rising to the fourth floor.

As he knocked on the door it swung open , revealing a short hall and her living room. The room was thoroughly trashed, with papers strewn around and on top of overturned furniture. He stepped in and tentatively called her name. No response. He bypassed the kitchen and cautiously approached one of the doors on the far side of the room. Maya had combined her bedroom and studio by knocking out the inner wall separating the two. He pushed the studio door open, and instantly smelled a combination of hot metal, cordite, and a bad bathroom smell. He eased into the dim room, closing the door behind him, before he saw her on the far side in the bedroom. She was lying on her bed, her leg stuck out at an unnatural angle.

He ran up to her and tried her pulse on her neck, though it was fairly obvious she was already dead. Her eyes were still open. There were at least two gunshot wounds, which had killed her quickly based on the lack of blood. However, her bowels and bladder had let go, so it probably was neither instantaneous nor painless. Working with homicide, he'd seen more than a few bodies, many in worse shape than Maya. He discovered it was different when you knew the person. He had an overwhelming urge to throw up, which he fought down.

Breathing through his mouth, he grabbed his phone and called Esposito. It went straight to voicemail, as did Ryan's, so they must be in a meeting or on a case. He switched to video, and started recording the scene. He'd have to call 911, and probably deal with some crew from the 1st or 5th precinct. Careful not to touch anything, he filmed the room, noticing the signs of a struggle as well as the beat-up street gun on the night stand.

Suddenly, he froze. He could hear at least two sets of footsteps in the outer room. Shit! He hadn't cleared the kitchen. Of course, whoever was prowling out there was undoubtedly armed, so looking in the kitchen could have proven to be a really bad idea. He looked at the four doors from the room. The bathroom and closet doors were open, and showed no exit nor a place to hide. The other two doors both emptied out into the living room. Looking around, he didn't see a hiding place that he would trust in this room or the adjoining work studio. Castle circled around and crouched down beside the bed. He nervously grabbed the pistol off the nightstand, knocking a water glass to the floor in the process. Crap! If they didn't know he was in here before, they did now. He checked to make sure the gun was loaded and the safety off, and pointed it at the door. He tried vainly to control his racing heart.

Both doors burst open simultaneously. He heard shouted from the far door "NYPD", unmistakably the voice of Detective Kate Beckett. Better yet, he could see Esposito and Ryan burst thru the near door, their guns raised. Esposito was yelling "Show me your hands." Castle was literally faint from relief. He needed to take an extra deep breath before he could stand. He straightened from his crouch, his hands raised.

He could feel a weak smile curl his lips up. Looking at the boys, only a few feet away, he said shakily, "Oh, Thank God. I am so glad to see you guys. I was beginning to think I was in real trouble."

He heard Beckett's amazed voice. "Castle?"

He turned, glancing at the other detectives over at the far door. "Beckett?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I … uh …" he gestures towards the dead woman's body with his gun hand.

"Rick, put the gun down." Beckett's voice was calm, almost soothing.

He looked Beckett over. God, she looked good. Of course. She always looked good, even standing next to the Demming asshole. In his relief he had totally forgotten about the handgun and cell phone in his raised hands. He nodded. "Oh, sure." He turned, looking for the night stand, trying to replace it exactly as it had been before he'd picked it up. He didn't want to put it on the bed, he'd messed up Maya's crime scene enough.

As he reached for the nightstand, he heard Beckett shout "NO!" and heard a loud bang. It was as if somebody had taken a two by four and slammed it into his side near his lowest ribs. He spun around in a quarter circle. Strangely, the room was tilting, with the entire floor moving, coming at him quickly before smacking him in the side of his head. He lay there on his side, staring at the floor which had hit him. For some unknown reason he was holding his breath, as if he'd forgotten how to inhale. Nothing made sense.

He distantly heard Beckett yelling and Esposito cursing. He felt a hand on his top shoulder, rolling him onto his back. Esposito's face swam into view. His lips were moving, and he had to concentrate to hear the words. " … gotta breathe, Castle. Just take a breath."

Castle inhaled, and felt a searing pain from his side. He looked quizzically at his friend. "Javier. What happened?"

"I don't know, bro, but I'm damn sure going to find out." At Castle's perplexed look, he added "You were shot."

Esposito was unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom. He looked at the Latino cop. "Esposito, I don't care how well you sing, I'm not that easy."

Esposito snorted, parting his shirt and getting a close look at the wound. "Don't kid yourself, Castle. You are _exactly_ that easy."

Beckett swam into his view, talking into her phone. " … Street, Apartment 417. We need an ambulance NOW." She listened, then added, "Tell them we have an officer down. I'll have someone on the street to meet them." She looked at someone outside Castle's view and nodded.

Wait, was someone else hurt? "Is Ryan okay?"

Beckett stepped up until she was centered in his vision. "Everybody's okay but you, Castle. Espo, what's it look like?"

"He'll live. The bullet grazed his side under his arm. If he was a little skinnier, it might have missed him completely."

Beckett stooped close to take a look. She noticed the entrance and exit wounds were only a few inches apart halfway down his right side, and looked clean. Both were bleeding, but did not have the bright red color of arterial wounds. Esposito was holding a handkerchief to the exit wound, staunching the blood flow. With his shirt open and pulled aside, she couldn't help but also notice his surprisingly good physique, previously hidden under the tailored jackets. She looked back up to to his eyes, "Rick, if you're up to it, can you tell me what you're doing here?"

He frowned. "Maya called, told me she was in trouble. Needed my help. It only took me about twenty minutes to get here, but I was too late for her. I found her on the bed" he jerked his head towards his friend, lying on the bed above him. "like that." Castle was just getting over the shock, thinking clearer.

Esposito moved the sodden handkerchief, and he jumped, wincing in pain. "Oh, shit, that hurts."

Beckett's smile flickered. "News flash, Castle. Getting shot hurts." She continued to Esposito, "Espo, I'm going to call CSU here for our scene, and then make damn sure IAD shows up for this cluster fuck. You need anything?"

"I could use another handkerchief."

She thought a second, then returned the cell phone to her jacket pocket. She grabbed the bottom of her untucked blouse with both hands, and ripped off the entire front shirt tail, handing it to Esposito.

The crouching detective smiled. "I hope you didn't like that shirt."

She smiled down at both men. "I liked it fine, but I like Castle more." She stared intently at Castle. "I'll see you at the hospital, Rick." Then she spun and left.

Castle looked at his friend, and smiled wanly. "Esposito, I'm getting mixed signals here."

"What?"

"Beckett. She treats me like a partner, then for a month she shits all over me. She sends me the text message from hell, then spends the rest of the summer sending apologies. She goes ahead and shoots me, just like she always threatened to do, even though she says she likes me better than one of her favorite shirts." He added dryly, "I'm guessing she's really hard on the rest of her wardrobe."

Esposito threw his head back and howled with laughter. Part of it was out of relief, but certainly some of it was because his friend's statement and perplexed look was hysterical. As the EMT's arrived he finally managed to choke out "She didn't shoot you, bro, and we all know Beckett loves her clothes." Esposito was still chuckling when they helped Castle up and on to the gurney.


	17. The Waiting Room - 1

**Monday, September 20th **

**(2 hours after the incident)**

The waiting room at Presbyterian's Lower Manhattan Hospital was about three quarters full. Alexis had been in there all of three minutes, and already found herself shifting on the uncomfortable plastic chair every ten seconds or so. She couldn't understand how any competent engineer could design a chair that had absolutely no correlation to the shape of the human body. Perhaps it wasn't designed for homo sapiens, but some other race of bipeds. She filed that thought for later, in what would undoubtedly be an entertaining conversation with her father.

"Alexis!"

She looked up to see her Dad's partner approaching. Former partner? Muse? Her Dad had been uncommonly evasive concerning his plans to return to the 12th precinct. Alexis knew there was a story there, but had been unable to pry it loose from her dad. She was pretty sure it had something to do with 'Schlemming', a character he'd introduced but later discarded in the last book. Maybe the real life Nikki Heat would be more forthcoming. She stood to properly greet the beautiful woman. "Hi, Detective Beckett." Though a natural born 'hugger', Alexis contented herself to reach out and grasp both Kate's hands in hers.

"Hey, Alexis. How is he?"

Well, that was a good sign, if the first thing out of her mouth was asking about her Dad. "He's going to be fine. Currently enjoying his meds. He now thinks this is some huge adventure. He can't wait to show his battle wounds to all his poker buddies. They were going to release him, but x-rays showed a cracked rib. The hospital's policy is to have the patient under observation for at least 12 hours after a broken rib, to make sure there's no breathing problems or chance of pneumonia. They'll come get us in about half an hour, after he gets moved into a room." She locked eyes with the taller woman. "Thanks for pulling strings to get him seen right away, and for the phone call. Dad probably wouldn't have called 'til it was all over. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I can tell you what happened, but I still don't know why. We were following up a lead on our last case, and entered an apartment about three blocks from here. The place had been ransacked. We heard movement in the other room, and split up to cover both entrances. We entered, and found your Dad standing over a body, holding a gun."

"Oh my God! Who died?"

"A friend of your Dad's. Maya Santori?"

"Oh! That's terrible! I've actually met her. I don't think they were really friends, more like Dad was a customer. She made these cool, moving metal sculptures. Dad bought a couple to help her out. She made that 'Skiing Man' we have on the bookshelves behind the TV. Hold it! Oh my God! You don't think Dad had anything to do with her …"

"At first, I was so astonished to see your Dad there, I didn't know what to think. It became immediately apparent that your Dad was relieved to see us, and was setting the gun down when the … um … incident … took place. So, to answer your question, no, I don't think he was involved."

"So how'd he get shot?"

"While your Dad was reaching to put the gun down, Detective Demming's service weapon discharged. The 'incident' is being investigated."

"Schlem … er, Demming? He works with you guys now? Detective! He could have killed my Dad! Is he going to get in trouble?"

It had sounded like Beckett had been white-washing the 'incident', spinning it to protect the NYPD, so she was surprised when the Detective said earnestly "I certainly hope so."

Alexis sat down. Beckett settled in the next chair and oriented towards the red head, their knees practically touching. Alexis confided, "I'm pretty sure my Dad doesn't like your Detective Demming much. He developed a jerky character, Schlemming, for his latest Nikki Heat book, but dumped him this summer. He didn't advance the plot much; he was more of an irritant."

Beckett puffed a laugh. "Yeah, he became a huge irritant." Beckett wondered how much her former partner had confided in his daughter. Should she tell Alexis about last May, and how badly she'd screwed up? Kate hung her head, thinking about it. Well, she reasoned, even if she doesn't know the gory details, she has a right to know a lot of the background that led to this snafu. Actually, when she thought about it, without Alexis's support it was doubtful if Castle would ever return in any capacity. With luck, Alexis might help her with Castle. Either way, she deserved to know the truth.

She took a breath and started. "Alexis, I don't know if your Dad told you about his last month working with us or not." The redhead shook her head, so Kate continued. "Detective Demming was working at the 12th with Robbery, and helped us with a few homicide cases that overlapped with his department. After working together for a couple of weeks, he and I started to see each other outside of work."

Alexis was looking at her, gobsmacked. "You were dating Schlemming?"

"Yeah. Which makes what followed that much worse. It seems that Demming thought it would be a great career move to join our team. Trouble was, our team was full. So he decided he'd do whatever it took to get rid of your Dad, to get him to quit. He started treating your Dad … very badly. A lot of mean pranks. Calling him names. Bullying him. Leaving him without rides." Beckett lowered her eyes and her cheeks blushed. "PDA's where your Dad could see."

"PDA's … with _you_? _You_ knew about this?" A degree of outrage was creeping into the girl's voice.

Beckett nodded her head. "I'm afraid so. I didn't know the full extent of the hazing, or Demming's ulterior motives, but I knew they weren't getting along. I ignored it, for far too long. It wasn't until your Dad told me he was leaving, and Esposito filled me in as to why, that I discovered the magnitude of my screw-up." Beckett took a deep breath. "But that wasn't the worst."

"It gets worse?"

"Yeah, um, your Dad asked me to go up to the Hamptons with you guys Memorial Day, before you were signed up for the Princeton summer program. I didn't want to mess with our partnership, or change our friendship, so I told him 'No, I've gotta work.' Except, that was a lie. I had plans to go to the beach with Demming."

"And Dad found out."

Beckett nodded. "And in the worst way imaginable. Another step in Demming's scheme to replace your Dad."

"Which apparently worked." Now the redhead was displaying her temper. Her lips were pressed together, her eyes piercing. "So, what, detective? Dad leaves and you replace him with your boyfriend?"

Beckett shook her head. "No, Alexis. As soon as I learned how shoddily your Dad had been treated, I dumped Demming."

"Then how is it that he's now on your team, Detective?" She added. "… and shooting my Dad?"

Kate winced at that last comment. "It turns out Demming is really well connected, and uses the 'old-boy' network and NYPD politics really well. My objections were noted, and ignored." She added, embarrassed. "Turns out, I was just another stair in his career path. Just a tool."

That stopped Alexis cold. She couldn't imagine this intelligent, cool, collected, driven woman could be used by anyone or anything. Still, did she have any idea what she'd done to her Dad … ?

"Detective, do you know why Dad left my Mom?"

Beckett shook her head. She'd always assumed Castle had reverted back to his playboy persona.

"It was because my Mom was lying to him. She said she was going to auditions and readings when she was really meeting her director boyfriend or her producer sugar daddy for, um, trysts." Alexis cheeks pinked. "He couldn't trust her anymore. Do you know why he left Gina?"

"He told me it was because they were arguing all the time."

"Yeah." Alexis snorted. "They were arguing all right. Most of the arguments involved Gina recruiting young male authors a little, um, enthusiastically. Worse, she was lying about where she was going, and with whom. Dad no longer trusted her."

"Alexis, how do you even know these things?"

The girl shrugged. "Neither my Mom nor my Grams can keep a secret … about anything. Plus, I've discovered that if you're quiet people forget you're there. I've overheard phone calls. Arguments. Mother – son conversations. Poker games." She shook her head. "I didn't always understand what I was hearing, but that didn't stop me from remembering it." She frowned at the detective. "Of all the people I've ever met, you would have been the last person I would have guessed would let my Dad down like that."

Beckett felt that one keenly, an arrow through her heart. "Me too. Now, after I've realized how badly I screwed up the best partnership I've ever had, I have no idea how to fix this. Your Dad and I haven't spoken since May, until today … when a member of my team shot him." Beckett put her head in her hands. "Oh, my God. My team shot Richard Castle!" The full weight of those words rolled over Beckett, almost crushing her.

Knowing her Dad was okay helped a lot, and kept her from totally losing her temper with the older woman. She'd lost some of her respect for her Dad's partner, but that didn't completely erase the admiration she'd had for the woman for over two years. Nor did it change the fact that her Dad had become happier, productive, fun, and almost adult-like this past year; attributes Alexis credited the detective in fostering in her 'partner'. "What is it you want, Detective?"

Beckett looked at her with one of the most intense expressions Alexis ever had directed towards her. She grasped her hands, and gave Alexis a tight, forced smile. "To be able to talk to your Dad. To apologize for the Spring. To apologize for today." She took a shuddering breath. "To ask Castle to come back to the 12th, in any capacity he wants. To get my partner back. To get my friend back." She shook her head. "Least likely: To rewind five months, and stop this whole mess before it starts. To have your Dad forgive me."

Alexis was blown away by her intensity. She replied, "Well, what did Dad say when you tried to apologize?"

"Nothing." At the redhead's incredulous look, Beckett explained. "Your Dad left his going-away-for-the-summer party before I could talk to him. No, make that before I was ready to talk to him. All my fault. I texted him right away, but he told me to have a good weekend, and he'd talk to me that Tuesday. He, um, apparently still thought I was going away for the weekend with Demming. Since then, I have called, left voice mails, emailed him long letters of apology, and texted him dozens of times." Kate felt tears of frustration prickling the back of her eyes. She gulped, before ruthlessly regaining her control. "I thought about looking up your address out in the Hampton's and just showing up, but kept imagining all sorts of scenarios where that would turn out horribly." She'd actually been in her car, more than once, ready to head for the LIE. She'd even ridden her Harley out towards there on a sunny Sunday with her bike club. Every time she chickened out. It was better to hold out a slim hope for his return this fall, than to crush all hope by being hasty.

"And Dad never responded?"

"Not even a little. Not a peep."

"That is so unlike him. He never misses an opportunity to talk or write. It doesn't really matter if he's mad, or sad, or what he's feeling. He's a man of words."

"Maybe he just doesn't feel anything. Maybe he's just … indifferent."

Alexis looked at her with an expression approaching scorn. "Detective Beckett, I don't think you really know my Dad at all. His feeling towards you may be mixed, or vary from day to day, but there is no way he's indifferent. You are his inspiration for the greatest character he's ever written. His emotional attachment towards his main characters is extreme, to say the least." Her expression changed to puzzlement. "I can't figure out why he didn't get back to you. I mean, even if he was furious, he'd let you know it." She frowned. "Are you sure your messages were getting through?"

Beckett reached in her jacket, pulling out her i-phone. As she unlocked it, she objected, "I never received an 'undeliverable' message." She leaned over so Alexis could also view the i-phone. She clicked 'Castle' and started scrolling through her messages. Screen after screen of gray messages, denoting sent messages. No blue incoming responses anywhere. Some messages were very long, some very short, but all were gray. They flew past Alexis's eyes too fast to read. Every five or six screen-full of messages, Beckett's long index finger would flick down the screen, so another half dozen screens would zoom by. It seemed endless. Finally, a blue message bubble appeared. Beckett stopped the scrolling screen, and went back to Castle's last sent message. It read 'On the road, in traffic. We'll talk Tuesday after your weekend' with a heavily perspiring emoticon. It was dated Friday, May 27.

Alexis shook her head. "That's too weird." She spun on the uncomfortable seat, and searched the pockets of her Dad's jacket, hanging on the back of her chair. She pulled out a familiar cell phone.

Beckett smiled for practically the first time that dreadful day. "You have your Dad's cell phone?" she cried, aghast. "You realize he's probably in the throes of Angry Birds withdrawal right now."

That coaxed a smile from the teenager, as intended. "The third time the emergency room nurse threatened to take his phone away, I thought she sounded serious. So, I'm holding on to it and his wallet until he gets settled in his room."

"You have his wallet? Why aren't you shopping, young lady?"

Alexis unlocked her Dad's phone, grinning. "Detective, it's only a little past four. The stores don't close for hours." She selected Beckett's messages and began scrolling through them, going slower than Beckett had. Message after message after message. September. August. July. June. Screen after screen after screen of blue messages. All marked as 'READ'. Alexis muttered "I don't understand it."

Beckett looked away from the screen. Wow. And she hadn't thought she could feel worse.

Alexis added, "You're right. His last text message was Friday May 27th. Then all your messages start, from your beach weekend through the summer." She looked at Beckett. "You went to the beach anyway?" She fiddled some more with Rick's phone.

Kate answered absent-mindedly. "Yeah. It was already paid for, and the weather was nice." She wasn't thinking of the beach. She was replaying, for the hundredth time, Castle's last speech to her. Based on the evidence at hand, she couldn't help but think Castle's beautiful words were the last she'd hear from him as her partner.

"Oh my god! OH MY GOD! KATE! How COULD you?"

**A/N: Sorry. Super long chapter. Part Deux tomorrow.**


	18. The Waiting Room - 2

**Monday, September 20th **

**(2 hours after the incident - continued)**

"Oh my god! OH MY GOD! KATE! How COULD you?"

Kate didn't know what to call the expression displayed all over the girl's face. It was some strange blend of revulsion and horror, staring at Castle's phone. "Alexis, what is it?"

"No wonder. JESUS. Beckett, how could YOU possibly send THOSE pictures?" Now she sounded pissed off.

"What pictures?"

"The ones from your good time weekend!"

Beckett was totally at sea. There was something seriously wrong, and she had no idea what it was. It was exasperating. "ALEXIS? WHAT WEEKEND?"

The girl set her Dad's phone down on her knee, then extended her hand, palm up. Her tone was furious. "I'll show you. Gimme your phone."

Completely lost, Beckett meekly handed her phone over. The teenager opened up the pictures folder, only to discover a practically empty folder. The few pictures there looked like photos taken accidently, showing sky or sidewalk or an out of focus car seat. "Where are your pictures?"

"I don't take pictures with my phone." Her voice sharpened. "What's going on, Alexis?"

"I'll show you, Detective." She navigated back to the long message list to Castle, and scrolled to the end of May. She then scrolled up a page, then back down a page, then another, then returned to the first page. Looking puzzled, she shifted Beckett's phone to her left hand, and picked up her Dad's with her right. Beckett could make out a picture of a beach, before she closed it. A message appeared, but before Kate could read it, Alexis backed out of that too. She then put the phones side by side.

Beckett could clearly see both lists of text messages. Both phones started on Friday May 27. All messages in gray on her phone were blue on Castle's, and vice versa. There was one on Castle's phone in the list dated Saturday May 28, with no corresponding message on her own phone. Alexis left her Dad's phone on her knee, while holding Beckett's phone in both hands. Her thumbs working furiously, she sneered "You DO know that text messages on cell phones aren't actually deleted, don't you? They're just erased from the directory, so you can retrieve them. It's even easier if you're synched, or backed up to the cloud." She glanced up at the puzzled woman. "Your message directory no longer pulls up the texts, but … " She gestured with the phone in her hand. " … your deleted text messages are still physically on here. You just have to scroll though the trash."

She had no idea why Alexis was upset, or what she was referring to. Beckett couldn't ever remember deleting a text message. She didn't really view her department issued cell phone as much more than a tool for communicating with her department without going through dispatch. Well that, and a freaking leash, keeping her tied to the precinct for call outs. She liked nothing better than those rare days she could leave her phone at home, to be free of it for at least a little while. It had never occurred to her to delete anything on the phone. She'd always assumed she had enough memory space on her phone to last its entire life. It was against her nature to delete anything, anyway. All call logs and messages were part of the case files she'd worked, a record of their progress. She held out her hand. "Can I see the message?"

Alexis practically slammed the phone into her palm, and she stared at the message. _**'Thought u might want 2 see Asbury Park Bch'**_. She frowned and objected, "I don't remember sending this." She clicked on the first attachment, and saw a pretty picture of the ocean, the sun reflecting brightly off the surface in the distance. The beach in the foreground looked like it could be the Asbury Park Beach. She was 90% certain she hadn't been so drunk that she'd forget sending photos to Castle, especially during the day. The picture could very well have been pulled from the internet. She clicked the next photo, and could make out their bed and breakfast sitting in the sun. It was actually a great picture, and might have been used to market the little inn. That, too, coud have come from the internet.

She closed that one and clicked the third photo. The picture was so far out of context, for one second she was looking at some nonsensical modern art, an indistinguishable collection of shadow and color. It all too soon formed into the image of herself, wrapped in only a towel, wet hair swept back, and free of make-up. "Alexis, where in the HELL did you get this picture?" It was probably the first time she'd ever used a swear word in the girl's presence, but she was completely discombobulated by the image on the screen.

"From YOUR phone!"

That made no sense at all. For a second, she wondered if Lanie could have taken this picture, and if so then when, but quickly dismissed the notion. There was no reason for her to, and had been no opportunity for her either. She closed the photo and opened the next.

All thought stopped. The picture was of her, obviously naked and barely covered by a sheet. With her hair, her pose, her lips; the picture was extremely suggestive, bordering on lewd.

Kate had worked Vice for over two years. She'd seen countless pornographic images of every imaginable kind, and some that were so disgusting they defied belief. Groups. Children. Animals. Many of them incredibly graphic or unimaginably clinical. In her horror, Beckett was instantly convinced this was the most obscene photograph she'd ever seen. For a long moment, Kate couldn't tear her eyes away from the image. The blood left her head so fast, she felt faint. She closed her eyes and folded at the waist, her head practically on her knees.

A dread descended over Beckett like a shroud. Jesus Christ, this picture was out there. Somewhere. Maybe on the internet. Little Castle had seen it. Worse, countless others may have seen it. Even worse, Big Castle had undoubtedly seen it. No, check that – if she understood what Alexis was saying, Castle thought she had sent these to him. Over the roaring of white noise in her ears, she heard Little Castle's concerned voice. "Detective Beckett? Are you okay? DETECTIVE?" She felt the girl's hand on her shoulder.

Beckett straightened up, looking around wildly. Alexis's and Kate's seats were on the far side of the waiting room near the corner. Standing in the corner was a standard trash receptacle, covered by a rounded lid with a swinging door. She surged to her feet, and in three giant strides reached the corner. She yanked the cover off, bent, and vomited, emptying herself into the half full trash bin. Tears sprang to her eyes and spilled past closed eyelids as her stomach continued to try to evacuate itself, long after all contents had been forcefully ejected. She had dropped the lid, and was now bent over the can, her knees locked, her arms rigid, hands on her thighs, the only thing keeping her upright.

Her retching finally evolved into constant swallowing, as if she was trying to re-teach her throat which direction it should be working. Her body's demands subsiding, her mind began producing a kaleidoscope of catastrophe. A steady stream of unwelcome images, appalling developments, horrifying consequences. Her heartbeat was powerful, loud in her ears. She opened her eyes, but the images continued. Worst case scenarios repeatedly slammed her. Her Dad. Her job. Her friends. Her partners. The captain. Jesus God.

She finally straightened, taking a breath. Looking around, the few remaining in that part of the waiting room were studiously ignoring her, with the exception of Castle's daughter. She stood just two feet away, a bunch of tissues in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head no, accepting the tissues from Alexis. She used half of them to wipe her mouth and chin, the other half to wipe her eyes and cheeks. She threw the Kleenex away and replaced the top, before unsteadily making her way back to her seat. She accepted the water gratefully from the girl and managed a small thank-you. She took a small sip, swished it around, and swallowed tentatively. After a few seconds she figured it was staying.

Beckett sat back in the chair. "Esposito told me your Dad had mentioned something about a text message from hell. I had no idea what he was talking about."

"Obviously. Detective, I have seen drunk teens with the spins, sick cancer patients in a pediatric ward, and Gram's mother on her deathbed. That is the whitest I've ever seen anybody turn before. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Alexis, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to die, nor am I going to lose consciousness. However, I'm a long, long way from all right." She took a breath, then looked around for her phone.

Alexis pulled it out of a pocket and held it up. "Are you sure … ?"

Beckett nodded and held out her hand. She added softly, "Yes, Alexis. I need to figure this out. Hopefully, with your help?" Alexis nodded and handed her back the phone, scooting closer. Beckett unlocked her phone, and found herself back on the message screen. She re-opened the first attachment and studied the beach photograph. She studied each of the dozen figures that could be seen in the foreground. She widened the picture on a small family, young parents with a 5 year girl and a toddler little boy. "I think I recognize this family. These kids were at the inn the same time we were." She returned the photo to its original size, and kept scanning. "Wait." She widened the picture again, until pixels appeared. She pointed at seated figures near the water line. "This is Lanie and me in these chairs".

Alexis leaned in to see better. "You went to the beach with Doctor Parish?"

"Yeah. Like I said, it was nice out, and I'd already paid for it."

The redhead shook her head. "That definitely could be you, and the other one Dr. Parish, but from behind I can't tell for sure."

They scanned the photo another half minute, then moved to the next photo. The picture of the inn only had one person in it, too far away to discern who it was. With the direction of the sun, Alexis thought to look at the shadow of the photographer, but the bottom of the photo cut off too soon. With no small amount of trepidation, she moved them on to the third photo.

Beckett looked at the photo. Alexis asked, "Do you recognize anything?"

The detective shrugged. "White towel, white door, white bathroom wall. No pictures, no furniture, no wallpaper or wall colors. It could be the bed and breakfast, my apartment, or anywhere else. Can you tell if it was photo-shopped?"

Alexis shook her head. "If it was, it's an expert job. What about hair length?"

"My hair was really long as a cadet and street cop, but it's been shoulder length for the last five years, give or take. Can you tell if my hair's highlighted?"

Alexis looked closely. "Unh-uh. Not with it wet."

"Damn. So it could be anytime in the last five years." Beckett looked at her fellow investigator. "Alexis, I'm sorry about all this. Thanks for trying to help."

"Detective Beckett, we can do this. After seeing you throw up, I get to call you Kate the rest of the day. So, Kate, I don't really know what's happened, but I'm pretty sure something terrible has occurred affecting both you and my Dad. If I can help in any way, I will. I realize this is difficult, but I want you to know, you don't need to be embarrassed around me."

Beckett gave a ghost of a smile. "You're truly incredible, you know that? It would be so easy for you to walk away from me, after everything that's happened. You are truly your father's daughter. This means so much to me. I reserve the right to call you 'Lex' the rest of the day."

"Fine by me. Ready?"

Beckett nodded and grimly opened the fourth picture. Despite her roiling stomach, details she'd totally missed earlier were readily apparent in the second viewing. "Oh my God!", Kate immediately exclaimed "That's my bedroom! At least, the colors are right for my sheets and my comforter."

"How long have you had the comforter?"

"Forever, unfortunately. I got the originals from my Mom. When my apartment blew up I reordered identical linens. I've had those sheets since college." She zoomed in on her head. "Do you see any highlights?"

"Like last year, with the red?" Alexis leaned in. "The lights not great, but that looks all brunette to me."

"So it could be this year or three to four years ago." Her suspect pool was narrowed further, but it could still be three guys. Will Sorenson, who broke her heart when he ran off three years ago; Derek, a college lover who'd reprised his role for a couple weeks when she was rebounding from Sorenson, or Tom Demming. Or, it could be photo-shopped somehow, making the suspect pool immense.

"Look!" Alexis excitedly grabbed the phone, and zoomed in on the night stand. "Isn't that your cell phone?"

Kate looked closely. "Looks like it. Shit!"

"What? That's a good thing, right?"

Beckett's eyes closed with dread and very sadly responded. "I don't think so, Lex. I think that means these pictures came off the internet."

"Oh, damn." She looked sheepish. "Sorry."

"Yeah. Damn." Beckett was imagining her whole life flushing down the toilet. She'd always considered herself brave enough to handle anything, but she really dreaded opening the last photo, the one she hadn't seen yet. She asked, "Ready for the last one?" At the girls nod, she opened the last attachment. Tom Demming's handsome face materialized, standing in front of the inn's steps. "Oh, God. That's our bed and breakfast!"

"Who's that?"

"Detective Tom Schlemming."

"Well, he might be a total jerk, but he's a cute jerk. He went down there with you guys too?"

"NO! His uncle has a cottage in town." A sudden, terrible thought burst in Beckett's consciousness. She returned to the first photo and quickly zoomed in on Lanie's and her things. "If Demming was there the same day, he could have found Lanie's and my things on the beach. That would have given him opportunity to grab my phone and download all these pictures."

"But Kate, he wouldn't be able to unlock your phone." At the detectives stare, she continued "or could he?"

Beckett stood up and started pacing in front of their seats. "Once, when we were out to dinner, we were discussing electronic security, and shared each other's pin numbers."

"Kate! NEVER share a cell pin with anybody. This one time, my friend got a hold of her brother's phone, and changed his facebook status so that he was dating …" at Beckett's look, Alexis said " … not important. Never mind." They were both quiet for a few seconds, before Alexis sat up straight, and half-shouted "I know how he did it. Gimme your phone!"

Alexis practically snatched the phone out of Beckett's hand in her excitement. Beckett half sat back in her chair with her leg under her so she could peer over the teenagers shoulder. She saw the girl bring up an incomprehensible list containing just a few items, all identified by a long jumble of letters and numbers. Beckett assumed this must be the deleted file list. She could pick out the 0528 date from the still highlighted message they just closed. Alexis clicked the one below it which shared the same date. A brief moment, and the identical message appeared on the screen, with the same attachments. This one, however, had the blue background of a read message, not the gray of Beckett's sent message. Alexis spun in her seat so she was facing Kate.

"He texted you the message first, then forwarded it on to Dad! He didn't even have to change anything. Just receive the message and forward it. He deleted both the received and the sent messages so you wouldn't see either in your text log."

"That makes sense. He would have only needed my phone for a couple of minutes that way."

"So, all these photos of you are, or were, on his phone, not out on the web!"

"Depending on what Demming did with them afterwards."

That was a sobering thought. "You'd need to get a hold of Schlemming's phone, and look at his history." Alexis thought about that. "Even then, I don't know if you can track picture uploads from a phone. You'd need to know the computer, or the website, the pictures were sent to." At Beckett's disheartened expression, she added, too late, "I'm sorry, Kate."

The women sat in silence for a minute, before Alexis ventured, tentatively, "What are you going to do?"

Beckett stood again, and began to pace. "I don't know, Lex. Something massive." Alexis could practically see the rage crackling off the tall woman.

Beckett had never really been a victim of a crime before. There had been one idiot who tried to assault her when she was undercover working vice, but he quickly learned the error of his ways. Then there was her Mom's murder, which had made her collateral damage, not a victim. She had never directly experienced these feelings of humiliation, or helplessness, or degradation. She was Kate Beckett! She didn't do vulnerable. Yet here she was, sitting with her ex-partner's daughter, at a loss how to resolve this mess.

Nothing she could think of would sufficiently make amends. She wanted to kick the living shit out of Demming, preferably with a baseball bat, but that would only hurt him temporarily, and cause a world of trouble for her. She'd been racking her brain to come up with New York statutes that he'd violated that would bring automatic jail time, but every applicable law was either a misdemeanor or a huge stretch to apply. She was vindictive enough that the vision of Demming in Rykers, with the double whammy of being both an ex-cop and a sex offender, was more than a little pleasing. However, that wasn't going to happen.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the approach of a hospital volunteer. She glanced at Beckett before addressing Alexis. "Miss Castle. Your father's been moved into room C-412." She pointed down the corridor. "If you take the north elevators to the fourth floor, and turn left, the nursing station will be straight in front of you. If you get lost, just follow the yellow lines on the floor."

Alexis stood, reading the candy striper's nametag. "Thank-you, Kristen." She gathered up her purse, book bag, and her Dad's coat. She turned towards Beckett. "Thanks for waiting with me Kate. I really am sorry about all this … stuff. Are you going to find Demming now?"

Kate shook her head. "No, Lex, not yet. Four months ago I made the mistake of addressing my issues with Demming before talking to your Dad, and it's now one of the biggest regrets of my life. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. Are you ready?"

"Um, yeah, I am. But Kate, you might want to make a quick stop in the ladies room. You're kinda rockin' the 'mime' look right now", referring to her eye makeup.

Beckett gave the girl a soft smile. "Here." Beckett grabbed the heavily laden backpack from the teenager. "Let's go. We'll hit the little mime's room on the way."

**A/N: There are many readers out there who probably feel that Beckett's reactions are out of character (OOC). I welcome your comments. However, though I'm no expert on victim-ology, but would counter that any reaction in these circumstances would be believable. Kind of like combat, one doesn't know how they'll react until they actually do react.**


	19. Reconnect

**Monday, September 20th **

**(3 hours after the incident)**

"Are you sure you don't want to see him alone, first?" Beckett asked the girl, as they walked down the hospital's 4th floor corridor.

"I've already seen him alone, when I brought his stuff." Alexis smiled knowingly. "I'm kinda tired of it. Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing."

"No, Alexis, there's nothing I'm going to say to your Dad that I don't want you to hear, especially after your help with the text messages." Beckett sighed. "After all this time, I'm thinking whatever I say won't make much difference."

They paused in front of the closed door to room C-412. Alexis lowered her voice so it wouldn't carry into the room. "Listen, Kate, I don't pretend to know everything that's happened between you and Dad lately. What I DO know is that my father has never been as happy, or as engaged in life, as when he was working with you and your team. If he isn't working at the 12th, he ends up puttering around home like an old man, or going out and getting himself into trouble. If you had any doubts, I want you to know I'm a hundred percent in favor of Dad going back to the precinct, as long as you promise to do everything in your power to keep him safe," She paused for a second, then added " … and if, by going back, you can get that Schlemming jerk kicked off the team, that's a win-win."

"Lex, if I can convince your Dad into coming back, I promise I'll do everything in my power to keep him safe."

"Great! Ready?"

Big breath, then a nod from the detective. Alexis pushed the door open, calling out "Hi, Dad! I brought you a present!"

Castle was sitting up in the raised hospital bed, on top of the covers. He was wearing silk-like pajamas, a deep cobalt blue, his shirt unbuttoned in the front. A white gauze bandage, contrasting vividly against his tan skin, peeked out from his right side. For the second time that day Beckett was getting a glimpse of the author's build, and for the second time she was surprised at how 'in shape' Castle appeared. Castle's head was down, apparently perusing the magazine on his lap.

"Hey, Pumpkin, I was starting to worry! Did you bring my phone? I'm feeling a NOVA high score in me, and …" Castle looked up and saw his ex-partner behind his daughter. Beckett thought she saw a flash of something – Heat? Anger? – before a guarded and totally neutral expression overwhelmed his facial visage.

"Detective. Are you here for a statement?" Like his face, his tone of voice was devoid of any emotion. It was … careful, cautious. So not Castle.

"No, not now, Castle. At least, not to GET your statement. I'll get the bare bones later, and Ryan and Esposito wanted the honor of grilling you in Interrogation for your formal statement. Actually, it's the complete opposite. I'm here to give you MY statement."

"Your statement?" Castle lifted an eyebrow. "Your statement about what? About today? Is the NYPD concerned I might sue them?"

"No. Not that I know of. This isn't about today." Beckett set Alexis's backpack down in an empty chair and started towards the bed. Her hands started perspiring, so she surreptitiously wiped them on her slacks as she approached stopped at his side. She caught his glance, knew that she'd seen her nervous gesture. Of course he saw it. He always saw everything when looking at her. Her voice soft, she said "My statement to you, about what I did, and what I didn't do, detailing the litany of mistakes I made this spring. About how I hurt you. My statement's on the realizations I've come to, a whole series of epiphanies I wasn't smart enough to discover on my own. I needed my team, my original team including a ruggedly handsome writer, to show me all the problems I've created, my egregious blunders that resulted in a very crappy summer. I owe said writer a thorough explanation, and the world's largest apology."

Castle's other eyebrow shot up. "Egregious blunders?"

Beckett shrugged. "What can I say, Castle? Your mere presence improves my vocabulary. I find I talk much more gooder around you."

Castle winced at the grammar as Alexis let out a chuckle. He emphatically shook his head, the abrupt movement making him wince in pain. "Beckett, you don't owe me anything."

Her voice softened further. "You're wrong, Rick. I owe you for being the best partner I've had since I was a rookie. I owe you for enlivening our lives these last two years, making a difficult job a little easier. I owe you for taking you for granted, and not realizing the difference you were making in my life every day. I especially owe you for being totally brain dead last May, and not realizing what Demming was doing. I owe you for showing me that a good team leader needs to pay closer attention to her teams' dynamics, and not be so self-involved she doesn't notice what was blaringly obvious to everyone else."

Alexis spoke up from her chair behind Beckett. "What Kate DOESN"T owe you is an apology for that horrible text message."

Both adults turned to look at the teen. Beckett urged her to let her handle it by subtly but repeatedly waving her hand, palm down, in a 'tone it down' motion, while calling her name. "Lex!"

Her Dad looked at his daughter, astonished. "What?" Too many things were out of kilter here, altering his reality. Beckett was never nervous about anything. She didn't do sincere, nor open herself up like this. He could never remember her ever admitting to any error before, much less an error in her behavior. Furthermore, there was no way Alexis knew about the text message from hell. His daughter had never before called the detective by her first name. Then again, Beckett didn't call his daughter 'Lex'. 'Lex' was Superman's arch-enemy, not his precious daughter. Lastly, of all things Beckett needed to apologize for, that message was at the top of the list. Most of the other crap could be explained away, though not excused; but that message was nothing short of cruel. He decided to address the last thought first. Avoiding eye contact with Beckett, he looked at his daughter and asked "Why not?"

"Because she didn't send it. She didn't even know about it until this afternoon, when we figured it out."

Castle was thoroughly confused, and it was pissing him off. He looked up. "How could you not have sent it?"

"Demming swiped my phone when Lanie and I were on the beach."

"What was Lanie doing there?"

"That's who I went to the beach with, Castle. Demming said he was going to stay at his uncle's up the coast. He put together that text message on his phone, sent it to me, then stole my phone. He forwarded the message to you, then deleted both messages from the log. Until Lex and I were comparing messages, I had no idea those pictures existed."

"So they weren't … um … posed?"

Beckett's cheeks blushed, but her eyes were calm and steady. "He took them without my permission or knowledge, obviously earlier that month. He then emailed them to you. For that, and for his actions today, there isn't a hole deep enough for him to hide." Her voice hinted at a fury, barely contained.

"So he guessed your cell access code?"

"Castle, nobody could possibly guess a cell pin. No, he remembered it from a discussion we'd had, um, earlier. Before I dumped him."

"When was that?"

"Your last day! That's why I was late for your going away party."

"What in the hell does that guy have against me. What an ass …" he glanced at his daughter " … hat." Castle thought about what he'd just heard. He'd become so used to being mad at Beckett, blaming her had become second nature, he was almost comfortable in his anger. He'd considered Demming to be more Beckett's tool than personal enemy. He asked, "Tell me again how Demming took my place on your team? The boys both tried, but I still don't get it."

Beckett sighed. She turned around and pulled up a chair next to the bed, and plopped down into it. "When Montgomery came back from vacation, he was ambushed by the police commissioner and Demming's uncle, the Deputy Commissioner. The boys and I were kind of in a slump" – she stared into his eyes and emphasized – "which YOU helped us with, another thing I want to thank you for - and they forced the Captain into placing Demming on the team on a three month temporary assignment. Needless to say, we weren't too thrilled about it, but we made sure he had as little to do with us as possible. It really wasn't too bad – we worked his ass off and gave him all the scut work – until he totally screwed up today."

She reached over and snagged Castle's nearest hand in a tight grip, before he had a chance to withdraw it. "Rick, I promise you he's going to pay, for what he did to you, and what he did to me. I'm going to have an ethics board convened, tomorrow if possible, certainly by the end of the week."

"And charge him with what?"

"Thanks to your wonderful daughter, I can now prove those picture came from him. That is conduct unbecoming, if anything is. Hopefully that, combined with the shooting board's findings, will get him removed from the NYPD. At the very least, he'll get a huge reprimand and demotion."

Castle was shaking his head. "Beckett, you can't do that."

"Castle! After what he did, I HAVE to … "

"NO!" Castle withdrew his hand from the startled detective, and primped his pillows to get more comfortable. "Beckett, you can't do that. You'd have absolutely no control over what an ethics board would do. It would probably be made up of Demming's cronies from IAD, and some City Councilmen looking for publicity. They could sweep it all under a rug, or decide to exonerate him, or make him look like the victim. Once you share those photos, they're out in the world for anyone to see. Your career would never recover."

A look of anguish passed over Beckett's face. "Castle, for all I know, they're out there already."

"No, Beckett, I don't think so. I, um, checked." As she raised an eyebrow in preparation of asking how he knew that her pictures weren't widely disseminated, he gave a microscopic shake of his head and his eyes flicked towards Alexis.

She knew instantly that was not a question he wanted asked now, and tabled it for the future. Instead, she asked, "What would you have me do, Castle? Ignore it? There's no way I can let this slide."

Castle could easily envision Beckett's career going up in smoke over this whole affair. He was sure she didn't know just how connected Demming was, or how difficult it would be to punish him without terrible repercussions. She could find herself tragically embarrassed, re-assigned to a nothing job, maybe even black-balled. A solution occurred to him, a glimmer of an idea that made him smile. The more he thought about it, fleshing out the details, the more he liked the idea. He asked "When's the Board of Inquiry convene for this morning's shooting?"

Beckett recognized that smile. It was the same smile he got during a case when he came up with a solution or a new line of inquiry. She couldn't believe that, even after four months of absolutely no contact with each other, they could still read each other so well. She said, "Tomorrow at ten. It'll be at the 12th. The boys and I already gave our statements." He looked surprised, and she knew he was taken aback at how soon after the shooting they were meeting. "You know how they like to do these fast, to get those involved out from their desks and back on the streets." She looked at him suspiciously and asked, "Why? You know 99% of those Shooting Inquiries are a complete white wash. Ryan was bitchin' that they barely listened to his answers."

"Yeah, well, you guys have a secret weapon."

"What, YOU? Castle, I've never heard of a 'Shooting Board' taking testimony from a victim."

"No, not me, or at least, not ONLY me." His smile bordered on evil. "I'll give you a hint. Kate, what did you always used to ask me not to do?"

For a second, Beckett could only focus on his use of her first name, and how good it made her feel. She then thought of his question, and couldn't hide the smile. The list was endless. She grinned playfully. "Well, let me see, that isn't much of a hint. Is it, 'Stay in the car'?"

"Nope."

"Don't play with the radio?"

"Nope."

"Don't touch the siren?"

"Nope."

"Don't adjust my chair?"

"Not that either."

"Don't sit in my chair?"

"Uh-uh."

"Don't touch the stuff on my desk?"

"No, Beckett. Think 'crime scene'."

"Wear your gloves?

"Nope."

"Wear your footies?"

"Nope."

By this time Alexis was laughing hysterically. She wheezed out, "DAD! What are you, like four years old? Are you sure you want him back, Kate."

Hearing that sobered Castle's expression, the light quickly going out of his eyes. Beckett responded immediately, making sure her smile grew. "Yeah, Lex, I really do." She spun back towards Castle. "Where were we? Oh, yeah. How about, 'Put that down'?"

"Getting warmer, Detective."

Right then, just like that, she knew. Not guessed, but KNEW. "You took pictures?"

"Close. A video."

"While you were shot? What's it show?"

"Enough. I don't know what Demming's testimony is going to be, but it's very likely that the video will refute whatever he's saying."

"Can I see it?"

He studied Beckett closely. He really didn't want her to get burned, either by the photos or in retribution from Demming's cronies. He told himself he was doing this to protect his character Nikki Heat. He asked her, suddenly dead serious: "Kate, do you trust me?"

That made her blink. Matching his somber tone, she nodded. "Yes, Rick. Unreservedly."

"With your career?"

That made her pause. "What are you planning to do?"

"Ruin Demming's day, then thoroughly trash his career."

"Well, you're certainly hitting him where it'll hurt. Um. How can I help?"

"You can't get involved. I think you're going to need plausible deniability. There's going to be some serious collateral damage from the top of the NYPD. You need to be as far away from this as possible."

Beckett squinted her eyes, then nodded at him. "Okay, Castle. I'll trust you with this, on one condition. After the hearing, you come back upstairs and help us solve Maya's case."

"You don't have any leads?"

"We have no idea how the victims are connected. I've got Ryan and Esposito running phone numbers and financials, but your shooting put us way behind."

Castle tried to make himself more comfortable on the bed. He'd really had no intention of rejoining the team. It was too hard, too much heartache. He sighed in resignation. "Okay, Detective. Just this one case. Now, if you'd step outside with Alexis, I'll get dressed and check out of this resort. Then we can get the show started."

"No, Dad!" Alexis jumped from her chair and walked over to her Dad. "They said 12 hours. It's only been about three."

"Alexis, I'm fine. If I wait, that'll be the middle of the night. You know what it's like trying to get released at night or early in the morning from a hospital. I need to be at the precinct at least an hour before the hearing."

"Dad, I said 'no'. The last time you checked yourself out of a hospital against medical advice, it was a disaster." At Kate's look she rolled her eyes. "It's a long story. I'll tell you later."

Beckett offered, "Guys, I have a friend on staff here. A surgeon. What if I can him to get you released in time?"

Castle looked at Alexis, who nodded. "Okay. If he's available?"

"I'll call him." Beckett took her phone out as she walked towards the door. She turned around before leaving. "Castle, are you sure about this?"

"Yeah, Beckett. Trust me. This is the best, and maybe the only way, to nail Demming."

"Okay. Be right back. Oh, and Castle, forward that video to me." She took the phone and put it up to her ear as she exited the room.

Alexis asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Okay. It only stings a little. They told me it was a jacketed slug, so it's like having a knitting needle shoved through my side." At her cringe he added, "I really only notice it when I bend that way. The drugs help." He grabbed his phone and added, "Could you hand me my phone, please. I need to make a couple of calls. Are you going to be okay tonight?"

"Sure." She placed his phone and wallet on the night stand. "We have a test Thursday, so I was planning on studying with Paige tonight, after a little shopping. I'll just stay at her place tonight." She picked up his wallet and removed a black credit card. "Speaking of which, Kate reminded me that I wouldn't be doing my daughterly duty if I didn't take advantage of your credit card while you're stuck in here."

"She did, huh? So, honey, how long have you been calling Detective Beckett 'Kate? And, since when does she call you 'Lex'?"

"Since today." Alexis looked towards the door, then lowered her voice. "Dad, you wouldn't believe how upset she got when we found those pictures. I thought she was going to pass out."

Having seen his ex-partner's acting abilities, he responded with a non-committal grunt. Alexis continued, "No, really, Dad! She threw up."

"What?"

"Right there in the waiting room. I've never seen anyone so emotional … and that's after living with Grams for three years."

Wow! Castle withdrew inside his head. He began changing his opinion of recent events, as well as his understanding of Beckett. Those thoughts took him directly to a possible scene in the next Nikki Heat book. The hospital room disappeared, to be replaced by a scene between Heat and Rook.

Alexis recognized his look. She stepped forward and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I'll bring back your credit card, and some dinner tonight. Okay?"

Castle shook himself out of his reverie. "Okay, pumpkin. Oh, listen can you do me a huge favor? Could you please bring me a change of clothes. A suit and tie, shirt and shoes. And, maybe my laptop?"

She grinned at him as Beckett re-entered the room. Holding the card aloft, she said, "Sure, dad, but that'll cost you."

He turned to Beckett and said accusingly "See what you've done!"

The detective shook her head. "It's got nothing to do with me, Castle. It's in the female DNA." She winked at Alexis, then turned back to the bed. "Doctor Davidson will be here between 6:30 and 7:00 tomorrow morning. He said it would take about half an hour to get you released."

"Oh, that's great! Then Alexis, I won't need the suit, I'll have time to go home before the precinct."

Beckett looked at the redhead. "You leaving now, Lex?"

"Yeah. I'm meeting Paige for some retail recreation, then she and I need to grab dad's laptop and dinner and come back here. Are you going to be here?"

"No, I need to get back … " a quick glance at the wristwatch " … Half an hour ago. I'll walk out with you" She looked up. "See you tomorrow, Castle?"

"Tomorrow, detective." This response was greeted by a blinding smile from Kate, who spun and left with his daughter. He found that smile stunning, and it took him a minute before he picked up the phone and looked up a number. He knew he needed to also call his lawyer, the shark he kept on retainer, but this was the more critical phone call. After two rings he heard, 'Federal Bureau of Investigation' and he requested "Agent Jason Avery, please."


	20. A Slight Misunderstanding

**A/N – **_This chapter is critical in the next story in the Writing Wrongs series (working title is Character Assassination- concerning a certain cardiac surgeon), but is kind of a fluff piece in this story. However, it fits chronologically, so what the hell._

**Monday, September 20th **

**(the morning after the incident)**

Doctor Josh Davidson had been surprised and pleased by the phone call from Detective Kate Beckett. He'd only met her a couple of times, and was thrilled she'd remembered his name, much less kept his number. His membership in the motorcycle club had allowed him to enjoy one of his two favorite hobbies, while safely riding in larger groups with well conceived routes out in the country; making for fun day trips. More importantly, it allowed him the opportunity to meet new people outside of work. Of all the people he'd encountered in the motorcycle club, the pretty detective was far and away the most intriguing.

He didn't have many friends here in New York, and his nomadic life and ungodly hours had precluded much opportunity for pursuing any kind of meaningful relationships. He'd spent his four years in undergraduate school in Saint Louis, Med School at Penn, an internship at UMass, a residency in Chicago, and was now working on his surgical residency here in New York. A decade and a half of pursuing his goal, with very little time for anything else. His old friends from high school and Wash U had fallen by the wayside one by one, unable or unwilling to put forth the effort to keep track of him. In fairness, caught up in his constant quest of discovery in this wonderful world of medicine, he hadn't worked very hard at maintaining those friendships, either. His last romantic relationship of more than a couple of dates had been in his first year at Northwestern. Terri had been a fellow resident and a lot of fun, but in the year they'd spent together they'd probably squeezed in only about a dozen true dates. She'd taught him that dating a medical professional, especially a resident, was extremely difficult at best. Fortunately, she'd also introduced him to his other favorite hobby, the Doctors Without Borders program.

So, he'd jumped at the chance to do Kate Beckett a favor. It was a simple matter of calling her partner's surgeon last night, a trauma guy he'd worked with before, and offer to expedite his final check-up and his release. So it was that he found himself in the hospital at 6:30 in the morning, standing right around the corner from the nurse's station, looking over patient Richard Roger's chart. Everything looked straightforward, and he couldn't help thinking that the guy should be thanking his lucky stars at his good fortune. The chart showed what may have been the least impactful gunshot wound he'd ever seen. As he was looking over the medicines that had been administered, he became aware of a very interesting conversation from around the corner.

A brassy woman's voice with a thick New Jersey inflection was saying, " . . . I mean my boobs were practically hitting him in the face, and he had no reaction at all. I'm telling you, the guy is gay!"

A softer voice with the hint of a southern drawl added, "I think you're right. This is the shortest uniform I have, and I was bending over in his room flashing him, and he never even looked. Cindy's right. The guy is queer."

A contralto with a pure New York accent, chimed in. "Girls, you both are crazy. The guy is my all time favorite author, so I would know if he was. He's on Page 6 all the time with a hot date. He's been married two or three times, and I'm pretty sure he has a kid. Richard Castle is straight as an arrow."

"C'mon, gimme a break here, Marilyn. You know how many times Rock Hudson was married? How many kids Cary Grant had? Hell, if Michael Jackson can have a kid, ANYBODY can have a kid."

As Josh walked around the corner with the chart, contralto was saying, "Maybe you're right. If you are, that is SO damned disappointing. What a waste. I always thought maybe . . . " She looked up and saw the doctor. She smiled brilliantly, and said breathlessly "Oh! Doctor Davidson! Can I help you?"

The speaker was a very tall, fit, dishwater blonde with dark brown eyes and a terrific smile. Her younger friends, a platinum blonde with endless legs and a curly brunette with an hourglass figure barely contained by her uniform, both exclaimed "Good morning, Doctor Davidson!". The three quickly scurried over to his end of the nurses' station, eager to please.

Josh stifled a sigh. They always seemed to know his name, and he wasn't even sure if he'd ever even met these women before in his life. Young, unattached nurses reminded him of when he was at the park as a kid, feeding geese with bread crumbs: they all flocked around him, preening; all vying for his attention. With rare exceptions, he had always tried to treat them all the same: fairly, impersonally, professionally. If he had a dollar for every nurse that had thrown herself at him, he'd have paid off his student loans long ago.

"Good morning. I'm here to do a final check-up and release on Mr. Rogers. Is there any update on his condition that isn't in the charts?"

"No, Doctor. We were just discussing his case." Oh my god. Was New Jersey really batting her eyes at him?

"His night was quiet, and he seems to have slept well." Platinum blonde had sat on a stool, her old fashioned uniform skirt hiking up impossibly high. Didn't most nurses wear scrubs nowadays?

"Okay. It looks like I have all his paperwork here. I'll get him to complete his release form and bring it back here in a few."

"Oh, Doctor? Can I help you?" Dishwater blond was still breathless.

"No, I think I've got it. Thank you, ladies." As he walked down the corridor and entered the room, he could hear their hushed giggling.

He looked around the empty room, then glanced into the bathroom. He saw a large, well groomed man clad in expensive-looking slacks and an unbuttoned oxford shirt, apparently applying gel to his hair. Hmmm. "Mr. Rogers?"

He spun quickly and looked at Josh, wincing in pain. "Yes?"

"Good morning. I'm Dr Davidson, and I'm your 'Get out of Jail Free' card."

The patient smiled, transforming his face, and approached him with his hand extended. 'Why are gay men always so good-looking?' the surgeon wondered. As they shook hands the guy commented, "If I know your billing department, there's going to be nothing free about it. The name's actually Castle. But please, Doctor, just call me Rick."

Davidson couldn't help but smile back at the guy. "Nice to meet you, Rick. I'm Josh." He gestured over to the bed. "Let's get a look at you."

As Castle walked to the bed he asked, "Is this going to be okay with Doctor Truitt?"

"No problem. John Truitt doesn't make rounds until mid-morning, so I called him late yesterday. Kate Beckett called me and asked if I would expedite your release. She told me it was important to get you out of here before eight this morning." As Castle settled back on the bed, he peered at the bandage, noticing the absence of the usual mess that followed surgery. "You showered this morning? Did they tell you it's really important to keep the wounds totally dry."

"Yeah, Josh, I was as careful as I could be. I taped a trash bag over it, and made sure I was never directly in the water stream." He paused and then asked "How do you know Beckett?"

"We've ridden together a couple of times in the country."

"Beckett rides horses?!"

The doctor grinned, "No. Well, she might, but I was talking about motorcycles. We're both gym-rats."

"Gym Rats?"

"Gotham's Young Motorcycle Riding And Touring Society." He stood and unbuttoned his white lab coat, displaying a t-shirt with the picture of a tree-lined highway and the words 'GYM RATS – The best way to work it all out'. "Kate owns a softtail Harley and I have a Gold Wing." He started to carefully remove the outer gauze from Castle's side while he asked "Do you ride?"

Castle shook his head. "I used to. Bought a bike after college. 550 BMW. It's true what they say – if you fall off a horse, you need to get right back on. I didn't."

"What happened?"

"I was riding out on a coastal highway up north. Some idiot in a pick-up pulled out of his driveway right in front of me, and I put it down in a bunch of sand and gravel. Major case of road rash. The third time the ER Nurse took a steel brush to my legs to clean the wounds, I kind of gave up on the whole Ghost Rider thing."

"Ouch. Did you have a helmet on?" The doctor had removed the bandages, and was poking and prodding around the two wounds.

"Absolutely. You know what they call riders without helmets, don't you?" Castle paused for a second, then delivered the punch line. "Organ Donors!"

Josh chuckled. This guy was great. "It might sound ghoulish, but I'm always thankful for organ donors." While peering closely at the wound, he explained "My day job is as a cardiac surgeon."

"Hey, Josh, my heart's up here" Castle joked, tapping his chest.

He smiled, and asked "Anything wrong with your heart, Rick?"

"Well, it's been broken a few times."

"I'll get you some surgical glue. Fix you right up." Davidson started to reapply clean bandages. "Normally, I'd let the nurses do this, but I'm guessing you've seen them enough."

"More than enough. I was considering hiring a security guard so I could get some sleep. Are you, um, unattached? I imagine with a guy who looks like you, a surgeon no less, the nurses here would be all over you."

"Like piranha." Was Castle propositioning him? Asking if he was 'available'. Time to nip this in the bud, quickly. "I prefer _girls_ who I don't work with, outside the medical profession. Lord knows I spend enough time here, I really don't want to take it home with me."

"Like Beckett?" Castle smirked.

Davidson's face lit up, but he demurred. "Way too early to tell, Rick. I've only met her a couple of times. She is very interesting, though. From what I've seen, I really, really like her. Fun. Great sense of humor." The doctor finished bandaging his side, and stood up. "She said you were her partner, yet the nurses said you were a writer?"

Castle frowned. "Partner may be overstating it a bit. My new series of books' main character is a female homicide detective with the NYPD. I hung around Beckett for a couple of years to get ideas and lend some authenticity to the books. Have you read any of my work?"

"No, I'm sorry. I used to read science fiction when I was younger, but now I never manage to find the time. If I read all of the journals, pamphlets, and circulars I'm supposed to, I'd never get anything done." Both men grew quiet as Davidson applied his stethoscope, with the occasional request for deep breaths. "Well, everything sounds good. No wheezing or any sign of fluids. I think you're good to go. I'll write you out a prescription for a mild pain killer, which you should use if your side gets too uncomfortable."

"Thanks. I really appreciate this, Josh. "

"What's the big hurry to get out of here, anyway? Kate never said."

Castle carefully edited his response. "There's a Board of Inquiry on the shooting this morning. I need to be in attendance."

"Uh, Rick?" The doctor looked suddenly uncomfortable. "I don't want to put you on the spot or anything, but can I ask you something?" At Castle's nod, he continued. "Anything you can share with me about Kate? You know, to maybe help me make a good impression with her. I mean, you have to know her pretty well. "

Castle grinned at his discomfort. "Well, Casanova, I'll tell you. If you read my books, you'd get a glimpse of Beckett, but that's really only a caricature, a superficial and erroneous view." Castle smiled in reminiscence, and to Josh it looked like his eyes grew warmer. "Beckett is, for lack of a better word, extraordinary. She is very focused, almost driven, to find closure for the victims in this city. Everything, and everybody, takes a back seat to her cases," Castle smiled knowingly at the doctor "a phenomenon you're probably familiar with as a surgeon. She is highly intelligent and …" a quick frown flashed across his face " … for the most part, scrupulously honest, and values those same qualities in others. Also, and equally important, she's one of the worlds greatest control freaks."

Josh smile widened, and he nodded. "Okay, thanks. Here. Fill out this form, and you're free to go." He extended his hand. "Good luck at your hearing."

They shook hands. "Great! Thanks again, Josh." As Davidson swung the door open, Castle called out, "Hey, Doc? A quick word of advice. If you want to keep Beckett happy, you'll let her drive. All the time."

Josh grinned in response, nodded, and left the room.

**A/N: Josh Davidson is probably the most hated character in all of Castle-land, and one of the most despised in fiction since ****Miss Havisham**, **Dolores Umbridge, or Tom Buchanon****. ****A little unfair, isn't it?**


	21. Reinforcements

**A/N – **_My sincerest apologies for the long layoff. The spring of 2015 will go down in history for having the most weddings, baptisms, as well as high school and college graduations, ever. (How many grad parties are too many?) Thank you for all the reviews, comments, queries, and messages. I'll respond to them asap. I will be traveling next week, but should then be able to resume my (ab)normal schedule next month._

**Tuesday, September 21st - 8:35 am**

**(the morning after the incident) **

Castle exited the precinct's elevator, a coffee in each hand. Ryan looked up and spotted him immediately, giving his partner a heads up by exclaiming "Well, well, look what the cat drug in."

Esposito swiveled in his chair, and gave out a low whistle while taking in Castle's attire. "Hey, Castle, you don't need to get all dressed up for an interrogation. We're planning on grilling you, not toasting you."

Castle paused at their desks long enough to look down his nose at his friends. "Gentlemen, please try to curb your jealousy. If either of you could look half this good in Armani, you'd wear it to bed."

"Castle, if I spent half as much as you did for that suit, I'd never take it off. Hell, I'd probably bathe in it." Esposito motioned towards his side. "How's the hero's war wound?"

Castle grimaced. "Well, I know it's there. It doesn't hurt as much as _ache_."

Ryan grinned. "I always thought it would be Beckett that shot you. You know, Castle, if you lost a few pounds, that bullet would have missed you entirely."

Castle sneered at Ryan, but quickly resumed his sunny demeanor. "Ryan, I have no need to lose weight. Just having a _'through and through' _bullet wound adds so much to my 'SQ', it makes me practically a god."

Esposito asked "SQ?"

Ryan answered. "Sexy quotient." At his partner's look, he shook his head and said "It's … Australian. Don't ask." Ryan looked around then dropped his voice. "Castle, what's going on with Beckett? Since she got back from visiting you in the hospital, she's been really off, y'know?"

"Yeah, Bro, did you two get into it or something?"

"No. Actually, her visit went a lot better than I had any reason to expect. Answered some questions." At their looks of disbelief he added, "Look, guys, it's not my story to tell, but by the end of the day I'm sure you'll have figured at least some of it out. Come to think of it, I may need your help with something this morning." Both detectives automatically started shaking their heads, denying any aid to whatever Castle was planning, so he added "It's not for me, it's for her."

He nodded at the stairs as Beckett emerged from the stairwell, a stack of files clenched under one arm. She made a beeline for Castle. Well, actually for the coffee in Castle's hand. She beamed a smile and said "Hey, Castle, looking good. How you feeling?"

"Better. How are you?"

"Okay. Is that for me?" she asked, and reached a hand out.

"No." Her hand froze in mid-grab, her smile evaporating. Castle gave it a couple of seconds, then said "Just kidding! Here." while handing the coffee over to her.

Ryan just stared at Castle, as Esposito asked, "How is it you're still alive?"

Castle raised an eyebrow. "Divine provenance? Implacable fate? A gift to you all from benevolent gods?"

Beckett rolled her eyes. She addressed her teammates. "Have you guys gotten anything at all from the financials or phone records?"

They both shook their heads. Ryan explained. "Not yet. Warrant was just approved for Maya's records, so we should get them in a few."

"While we wait we were just going to drag 'God's Gift' here into the back room and interrogate the shit out of him." Esposito really could deliver an evil smile. "I bet we can make him cry without wrinkling his pretty suit."

Castle grinned. "Sorry, Javier, but your window of opportunity just slammed shut on your stubby little fingers." He looked at Beckett, then jerked his head towards her desk. "Got a sec?"

"Sure, Rick." She looked at the two detectives. "Don't worry, boys, you'll have lots of time later to make him cry. C'mon, God's Gift."

As the two walked away, the detectives gave each other a look. "Rick?" they both mouthed, stunned by the use of his first name, and Castle's easy demeanor. After the past summer, they were both wondering 'What the hell is going on?!' Major changes were afoot. They tried not to be too obvious in their eavesdropping.

Castle stopped in front of the murder board behind Beckett's desk and frowned. "Poor Maya. I wish I could have helped her." They leaned against her desk, inches apart, in what was once their 'usual' positions.

"Maybe you still can. Help us out. Give her some closure."

He glanced at her, but sidestepped the suggestion. "What are those?" he asked, indicating the files she'd set on her desk.

"Unsolveds. Women in the metropolitan area killed with a handgun in their homes."

Castle got that glazed, far-away look he always got when thinking hard, and Beckett felt a familiar thrill. She'd always been amazed by Castle's mind. She thought she was just as smart as her ex-partner, but her mind was more of a difference engine, measuring truths, falsehoods, and all the shades of grey in between. Castle's mind was a _possibilities _engine, weaving cause and effect together to create possibilities, and sometimes even plausible theories.

He was shaking his head. "I don't see this as a serial, Beckett. Maya was forewarned about _something,_ so it was neither spontaneous nor unexpected."

"I agree. But as I'm sure you remember, Castle, we dot all the 'I's and cross all the 'T's."

He nodded. "I know you do. This is probably going to sound a little sick, but I actually miss seeing your murder boards."

"No, not 'sick'. 'Depraved', maybe. Definitely 'disturbing'. But I don't think it's 'sick'." Beckett took a drink of coffee, then lowered her voice to keep from being overheard. "Thanks for sending me your video. We were lucky you caught us in frame when you were reaching for the table. It's askew, but you can definitely tell Demming drew down on you." She couldn't tamp down her smile as she commented "You know, only you would get a video of yourself getting shot."

Castle smirked. "That's undoubtedly due to my watching way too many episodes of 'Cops' late at night."

"I'm not sure how much the video will help. Everybody will be able to see the whole thing, and I did grab him right when the shot went off."

"You? A highly decorated Detective-One and homicide team leader with no motive (unless of course the boys told somebody on the board about your oft repeated threat to shoot me)? Versus a detective second and homicide rookie who, according to Esposito's and Ryan's statements, had displayed serious animosity towards me in the past? I think you may have saved my life, Beckett."

"You think it'll be enough to hang Demming"?

"In and of itself, no. He's got too much juice. We did some digging, and found the board actually has one of his IAD relatives on it. However, I have laid plans for both before and after the inquiry, so that your partner is going to be hit with a lot of problems simultaneously. I'm confident that it'll be more than he can handle."

Beckett stared into Castle's eyes, her voice tight. "He's not my partner, Castle. He's _never_ been my partner. That position is, unfortunately, still open."

He stared back into her fiery gaze. He took a breath, but before he could say anything his phone went off. He answered quickly. "Castle." After a second, he said, "Great! We're at Beckett's desk on the fourth floor. Do you remember where it is?" After another brief pause he continued "Okay, see you in a minute" and hung up the phone. At Beckett's inquiring look, he explained "I've called for reinforcements. They're on their way up."

"What? Reinforcements? Castle!"

Castle knew she was nervous, about the pictures Demming still had, about anyone else seeing them, about yesterdays shooting, about just about everything. She had always hated not being in control of the situation. He sighed and asked, "Beckett, I've got this. Do you trust me, or has something changed since yesterday?"

Her answer was longer in coming then before, but was the same as it was in his hospital room yesterday. "Yeah, Castle, I trust you. Even with my career." She sighed, and dipped her eyes. "Rick, I know you're still really upset with me, and for good reason. I have to ask, why are you doing this for me?"

Castle gave her flabbergasted. "Do you really have to ask, Detective? Do you remember what I said to you my last day?"

"Every word."

"Well, I **meant** every word."

That coaxed a small smile from her, and her gaze intensified. "Remind me to tell you the changes in me you provoked in our two years of working together." She took a deep breath. "What now?"

"Did you reserve the conference room?"

"Yes, we have it all morning. What else can I do?"

She looked up as the elevator dinged, and disgorged a pretty young blonde woman in a severely tailored business ensemble wheeling a small suitcase; a white haired gentleman in an expensive suit that Beckett recognized with surprise, who was carrying a slim leather briefcase; and the smiling face of FBI Special Agent Jason Avery. Beckett hadn't seen Agent Avery since the Scott Dunne case, but instantly recognized Jordan Shaw's partner. She thought the woman looked familiar, too, but couldn't place her. She gave a little grunt of surprise. "Interesting reinforcements, Castle." Avery waved to Ryan and Esposito as he passed them, and strode over to Beckett's desk.

Castle, responding to her earlier question, answered "I may need one of the boys for errands this morning. Nothing too taxing, just a sympathetic badge. Other than that, all you need to do is meet the team, and then keep your distance." They walked around Beckett's desk, and Castle shook Avery's outstretched hand. "Hi, Jason." He stepped away and gestured towards the big man. "Detective, I believe you remember Special Agent Avery."

"Of course!" She shook his hand with a smile, but with puzzled eyes. "Great to see you again."

"Nice to be seen, Detective."

Castle turned to the pretty blonde. "It's Agent Crawford, right?" As they shook hands he added "I'm glad to see your hands have warmed up."

That was more than enough hint for Beckett to remember the blonde from the Candela case. She, too, shook the woman's hand. "Hello again, Agent Crawford."

"Good morning, Detective, and you can call me Liz."

"Okay. I'm Kate."

Beckett turned slightly towards the older man as Castle put his big hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "Detective Beckett, may I present to you the attorney that inspired the movie classic 'Shark-nado', Mr James McDougal."

Beckett blazed a smile at the distinguished gentleman. "Counselor, it's nice to see you again!"

"You too, Detective. When Rick told me who this little exercise was to aid, I jumped at the chance to help."

"You two know each other?" The puzzled expression on Castle's face was new, in her experience.

McDougal grinned at his client. "Detective Beckett was nice enough to use an entire day off to be deposed in a wrongful death suit, in which I was successfully representing the family."

Kate gave a little shake of the head. "Before your time, Castle. A high-powered Wall Street broker was expanding his business into extortion and murder." She smirked at the attorney. "I understand he now has to borrow money just to be able to use the prison commissary."

The lawyer grinned back at her. "The moral of the story, of course, is that it's very expensive to piss you off, Detective. A point I'm confident we'll reinforce today." He turned to look at Castle. "Rick, I'm meeting Councilman Aronoff across the street for coffee in a few minutes. I need you to review and sign the affadavid first."

"Okay, Jim, the conference room is this way." He glanced back at his ex-partner. "Be right back."

Beckett turned to Avery and asked conversationally, "How's Jordan?"

"She's great. We were stuck in Houston for half the summer, but we finally caught the guy! She's teaching a class down at Quantico this week. So, I happened to be in town and available, and Rick is cashing in a favor."

"Favor?" Beckett was wondering if that favor was saving the man's life, and that of his partner's, this past winter. She sincerely hoped not, because that went against every code of conduct she believed in. She frowned in Castle's general direction.

Avery saw the look, and explained, "My twin daughters applied to a private school that happens to be the same school that Alexis Castle attends, and where Richard Castle is a PTO Board member. He was nice enough to write a letter of recommendation, which helped immensely."

"Oh." Castle was on a parent-teacher board? The man continued to surprise her.

"Of course, like Castle's lawyer, when I heard about this situation, and who we were helping, I volunteered immediately. According to Rick, we're the federal version of your team, so we need to stick together and help each other out. Plus, I still owe you for saving my life, my partner's life, and the whole freaking FBI hostage rescue team."

Agent Crawford's eyebrows shot up. "What? When was this?"

Beckett waved her hand, dismissing his comment. "Agent Avery's team tried to take over a case from us this past winter. We ended up working together, and, after a little excitement, got the guy. No big deal." She changed the subject. "How did Castle get you here, Liz?"

"He didn't. Jason explained what he wanted to do, and since he has absolutely no clue about cellular technology, I offered to help. Plus, it was an opportunity to work with Richard Castle again." She gave Beckett a sultry grin. "A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."

Great. Another fan girl. Speaking of the devil, she could see Castle emerge from the conference room with McDougal. The lawyer started briskly towards the elevators, while Castle more or less sauntered back over towards her desk. As he walked past Ryan and Esposito, they jumped up and joined him, eventually crowding around her desk with the two feds. Esposito asked, "Hey, Boss, what's up?"

"I'm sure you two remember Special Agent Jason Avery from the Dunne case. This is Special Agent Liz Crawford. Liz, this is my team, Detectives Javier Esposito and Kevin Ryan." As they all nodded to each other, Beckett became a little tongue-tied. "We're, um, ..." She looked up at Castle for assistance.

"We're doing a joint FBI - NYPD exercise to examine and modify certain team dynamics ..." At their confused looks, he added " ... by ripping Demming a new one."

This produced a smile from both of them. Ryan enthusiastically said "Good Luck" to them, then turned to his boss. "Ah, Beckett, I think we've got something. We just got the phone records back on our vics. Turns out, they did have a connection. They both received phone calls from the same number within hours of their deaths."

"Were you able to run it down?"

Esposito responded "Yeah, it traced back to a Todd McHutchin. He's got priors including a robbery and domestic assault."

She stared at them, then asked "Well, you got an address?"

"Of course we've got an address."

"Okay, I'll take one of you with me to pick him up, while the other one stays here and runs the financials. He may also be asked to provide these agents some assistance as well." She looked at Avery, then Crawford, then finally Castle. "Do you folks have a preference which of these jokers you want to work with?"

Avery shrugged. "It's your team, detective."

Castle suggested "Oh, I know, Beckett! Give us the ugly one."

This produced smiles from the feds, and glares from the NYPD members. 'Classic Castle', she thought to herself, 'trying to put me on the spot with the boys.' She squinted at the author, the hint of a smile forming on her lips. "Ahh! There's the 12 year old we all know and love. Welcome back, Castle." She turned to her detectives, who were busy exchanging a look. She mentally reviewed her comment, and silently cursed her phrasing. "Okay, Ryan, you come with me. Detective Esposito! I believe one of your tasks today was to thoroughly interrogate yesterday's star witness, who appears to now be available for questioning. I would greatly appreciate if you could ... wring ... every piece of information out of the witness possible. We never know what might prove to be important. Please be as ... thorough ... as possible."

All three cops were now staring at Castle hungrily, like he was a steak dinner. Castle's grin faltered. "Oh, c'mon guys, it was a joke!"

Beckett shook her head. "Good luck, Espo." She looked aside at the agents as she grabbed her things from her desk drawer. "And good luck to both of you as well. Please call me if you need anything, or there's any news." She started for the elevator. "Come on, Ryan, I'll drive."

Esposito braced Castle. "You ready to go 'Mano a mano', hombre?"

"Hand to hand? I don't know you well enough Esposito." He raised his palm before Esposito could respond. He asked Avery and Crawford "Do you guys need any set-up time?"

Crawford answered for them both. "No, we're good to go, Rick. Just point us to the room."

"Okay, it's this way." Castle looked at his Latino friend. "Detective Esposito, would you be so kind as to invite Detective Demming to join these two in the conference room. I believe I saw him at his old desk downstairs when I arrived. Please don't tell him what it's about, or who he'll see. We want it to be a total surprise."

Esposito nodded. "Okay, Castle, but we ARE going to talk soon."

Castle smiled, as the detective headed towards the stairs. "No problemo, amigo." He turned with the agents towards the conference room.


	22. Battle Plans

**A/N – **_Yeaaaa! I'm back! Hope everyone had a great summer! Thank you for the continued encouragement. I do feel bad about the long lay-off, and apologize profusely. If anybody has a job available that will allow me a lot of time to write fanfiction, while still vacationing with family and planning daughter(s) wedding(s), please let me know. Regardless, it's all outlined - I will finish this Tom Demming part of the Writing Wrongs saga before the new season starts. If anyone's impatient, I could always use a beta._

**Tuesday, September 21st - 9:10 am**

**(the morning after the incident) **

Demming lounged on his chair, his newly polished shoes resting atop his desk, reviewing his notes for the upcoming hearing. He ignored the hustle and bustle of the squad room, as the Robbery Division of the 12th went about their daily activities. That was only fitting, as his old teammates had pretty much ignored him after he transferred to the homicide squad. Sour grapes. The only exception to the third floor's obvious disdain for him since his transfer to Beckett's team this past summer were Boling and Laurence, who were still civil and invited him out for beers on occasion.

The past 24 hours had not been the best in his career. After the shooting yesterday, Beckett had overcome her shock almost immediately, and had furiously demanded he surrender his weapon – which she ridiculously placed in an evidence bag, no less – and then ordered him to return to the precinct to report to the captain. Demming made a few heart felt comments and stormed off. Montgomery, having already been relieved to find how negligible the author's wounds were, had coldly informed him that it was NOT their job to create more bodies to investigate, and told him to go downstairs to his desk and stay there. He was not to discuss the case, or the shooting, with anyone, under ANY circumstances. Montgomery expected a full report of the entire incident that he would personally collect before three, and he would schedule a Board of Inquiry as soon as possible. Until then, Demming was chained to his desk on administrative leave.

When Demming arrived at his old Robbery desk, it was lunchtime, and most of the 3rd floor was empty. Andy Boling was the only one nearby. The older detective was doing something on his computer, so Demming offered to buy him his lunch if he'd run to get it. They agreed on Gyros, and Boling took off, Demming's twenty dollar bill in his pocket.

As soon as the elevator swallowed Boling, Demming grabbed his cell phone and called his uncle. Demming's grandfather, the legendary Captain Jack O'Connell, had retired back when Demming was still a patrolman. Since then, the captain's eldest son, Deputy Commissioner Mike O'Connell, had been the de facto head of the O'Connell clan. The ever expanding clan now included all Tom's uncles: the DC's two brothers, and the one remaining brother-in-law. Demming's father, the other brother-in-law, had died of a heart attack while on duty years ago, and Mike O'Connell had stepped up for his nephew and his sisters and all but adopted them.

Not only did Demming have over a dozen cousins and cousin-in-laws that were also NYPD members, his oldest sister had married the oldest Lankin boy, whose family had a huge presence in the department. Similarly, one of the Deputy Commissioner's daughters had married into the Bryant family, another clan with a rich NYPD tradition. When it was all tallied up, the Deputy Commissioner had well over fifty police officers of varying ranks that he protected and promoted.

Demming's uncle answered his phone on the first ring. After being fully informed of the details of the shooting, he told Demming to write up his statement of the day's events, but under no circumstances was he to submit it until a family member had reviewed it. He explained that this was all in a day's work: that many of his family had undergone different inquiries and investigations of varying nature, some much more dangerous and serious than this, and nobody had ever been hurt. He would send someone who was familiar with shooting boards and what they needed to hear. Demming could reasonably expect help to arrive in a couple of hours. When apprised of Montgomery's three o'clock deadline, he assured his nephew that he'd get it extended until the end of the day. Furthermore, he calmly predicted that the Board of Inquiry would definitely take place tomorrow, on Demming's home ground, and have one or two family members on it. He then ordered Demming to relax and start composing his account of events, before perfunctorily hanging up.

Demming started typing. He began by describing the body ejected out a window, filled with bullets. The address found clutched in the victims hand, the rush to the new suspect's address, and the cautious approach through the ransacked Santori apartment were reviewed in detail. By this time, Boling had finally returned (smelling strongly of breath mints, with a very subtle scent of eau de Jack Daniels). Demming thanked him for the lunch, begged off joining him in the break room, and ate his lunch at his desk as he continued writing.

Castle's actions were described as more menacing than they actually were. His hands weren't 'up' but 'extended'; the gun prominently displayed. His comment 'Thank God' was described as swearing; and 'I am so glad to see you guys' morphed into 'I can't believe you guys found me.' Castle appeared to have ignored or refused to answer Beckett's question 'What are you doing here?' as well as ignoring her request to drop the weapon. His spin and step towards the bedside table became an aggressive move of pointing the weapon, and Beckett scream of 'NO' was at Castle, not him. Finally, Beckett's jostling of his arm was the result of his instinctual move to cover a partner, not Beckett's attempt to stop him from firing.

He concluded his report by explaining how he'd ascertained the health of the 'suspect' (he hadn't, but Esposito had, and he was fine), and how he followed procedure by calmly handing his weapon to his team leader and reporting back to his captain. He saved his work and looked at his watch. He was shocked to see it was already 2:45 in the afternoon. He sincerely hoped Uncle Mike had managed to get him an extension from Montgomery. He checked his In Box and found an email from Montgomery, complaining about an unscheduled meeting at 1PP and a promise to return to the precinct by the end of the day. Demming shook his head, smiling: there wasn't anything his uncle couldn't do.

Demming looked up and had been surprised to see his brother-in-law, Lieutenant Daniel Lankin, approaching his desk. He jumped up and gave him a hug. After a brief exchange of family news, Lankin had handed him both Esposito's and Ryan's signed statements, and explained he hadn't managed to get a copy of Beckett's statement; she hadn't even submitted it yet. He took over Demming's desk and started to look over his version of the shooting. Demming began doing a slow burn as he leaned on his desk reviewing his supposed teammates' reports of the day's events. Demming's prior animosity towards Castle was repeatedly mentioned, and the idiot writer's friendly demeanor and non-threatening actions were highlighted. Demming commented on these features to Lankin.

His brother-in-law shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Tom. You need to understand, the Inquiry Board is ONLY interested in whether proper procedure was followed. If you did everything correctly, you could have shot and killed Mother Theresa and you'd be exonerated. Similarly, if you shot the Son of Sam, but broke policy, you could be censored or worse.

You need to rewrite this. Forget the earlier crime scene. It makes it sound too tense, or too vengeful. You're not writing a crime novel. You need to be the epitome of calm, collected, and professional. Ryan and that other guy obviously like the vic, so their statements are too emotional and therefore worthless. Start as you entered the trashed apartment. If you heard something from the bedroom before you breached the doors, that would be good. Perhaps, the chambering of a round? Oh, wait, it was a revolver, right? Maybe you heard the cylinder slamming shut? Also, make sure YOU said something as you entered the room. 'Put it down' or 'Drop the weapon' are always good choices. Most importantly, when describing Castle, concentrate on what his eyes looked like. You are an experienced and decorated veteran of almost fifteen years, including live fire incidents while with ESU. If you say, based on what you saw in his eyes, that he was about to fire on you, there's no way anyone can refute that. Also, don't even mention that Beckett bitch grabbing your gun hand or bumping you. There are no accidents; everything that happened you meant to have happen.

Now the board will be made up of me, Lieutenant Gates, and one other from IAD. I'm hoping to get you cousin Allison assigned, but Gates outranks me, so it's her rodeo. Also, a desk sergeant from here named Johnson. Are you friends with him?"

Demming shrugged. "A little. We say 'hi'. He's alright."

"Okay, good. The fifth member will be Councilman Aronoff from the tenth district. He's very pro NYPD, and would be a badge bunny if he was a she. So, tomorrow should just be a formality."

"Great! What about my union rep?"

"No! Absolutely not! Nothing will piss off Gates more than having to deal with a mouthpiece. You've got nothing to hide, right? Oh, that reminds me – I know you're a clothes horse, but don't wear anything too nice. A clean, inexpensive suit reminds everybody that you're just a hard-working public servant." His brother-in-law stood up, relinquishing Demming's chair. "When you're finished rewriting your statement, send me a copy. Keep a copy for yourself and memorize it. Then print another, sign and date it, and hand it to Montgomery. Then go home and get a good night's sleep. If you show up hung over tomorrow, I swear to God I'll kick your ass."

Demming smiled. "As if you could. I've got no plans tonight, anyway." He extended his hand. "Thanks, Daniel."

They shook hands. "Hey, that's what I'm here for, Tom. Protect and serve." Lankin smiled and added enigmatically, just before walking away "We have big plans for you, Tom. So, it stands to reason, we HAVE to take good care of you. I'll see you tomorrow."

Demming waved goodbye, then began to edit his statement as instructed. As he was rewriting history, his mind kept returning to his brother-in-law's cryptic promise '_We have big plans for you'_. The bald statement both excited and worried him. There had been a lot of rumors about various members of his family, tying them to criminal families and cartels, which he'd written off as total bullshit. '_We have big plans for you'_. He shuddered, and tried to concentrate on the changes to his statement. He finished in plenty of time to hand off a signed copy to the captain around 5:00, and go home. It was concern over Lankin's comment, not worry about tomorrow's hearing, that gave him a restless night.

The following morning, Laurence stopped at his desk. "Hey, Demming. Going over your story?"

Demming took his feet off his desk and sat up in his chair. "It's not a 'story', Laurence. It's a statement … you know, filled with facts?"

"You worried about it?"

"Not really. Should be a piece of cake. This is my first 'shooting board', but I've been told it's similar to the debriefs we had in ESU after a shootout. Just give them my statement, and move on."

"Ok, cool. Doesn't sound like you'll need it, but good luck."

"Thanks." Demming still hadn't seen Beckett's statement, but figured if it was going to cause any problems, his sister's husband would have warned him. He went back to re-reading his statement, when he heard more footsteps approaching. He looked up to see Esposito stop in front of his desk, scowling. His ex-teammate from ESU had been the biggest thorn in his side during the past six months, and Demming couldn't imagine what the tool could want down here. He matched the homicide detective's scowl and asked, "What do you want, Ess-hole?"

Espo's scowl deepened. "For reasons both beyond me and above my pay grade, there are still some people around this building that are deluded enough to think you're still a working cop, Dumming. There are a couple of feds in the upstairs conference room that want to talk to you."

"What about?"

Esposito shrugged. "How the hell should I know? Maybe they want you to give them pointers on shooting writers."

Demming just smirked. "It's a skill everybody should probably work on." He interrupted Esposito's impending explosion by continuing "I have a hearing in a little over half an hour. Tell your feds I'm busy."

"Tell 'em yourself, Detective. While you're at it, let Montgomery know too." Esposito did a smart about face, and strode back towards the steps.

"Hold it, Esposito!" Demming stood up and, muttering curse words, gathered his things. He then wordlessly followed the smaller man up one flight of steps, then around the outer corridor past the interrogation room instead of through the bullpen, ending at the closed door of the conference room. The venetian blinds on the interior windows were drawn, eliminating a view into the room. Esposito rapped on the door sharply, and the door was opened immediately by a large, well dressed black man.

Esposito performed the introductions. Not knowing what was going on, or how Avery was hoping to handle Dumming, he kept his voice level and devoid of emotions. "Special Agent Avery, this is Detective Thomas Demming, currently on temporary assignment to Homicide Team Alpha, 12th precinct."

The big man smiled. "Thank you, Detective Esposito. If you'd be good enough to hang around, there will probably be others here at the 12th we'll want to work with." Avery stepped aside, and gestured with his arm into the room. "This way, Detective Demming." Demming entered through the door, which Avery shut behind him.

Esposito was totally out of the loop, a position both unfamiliar and uncomfortable to the seasoned policeman, and it was pissing him off. He strode to his desk, picking up the hard copy financial reports of the two victims, and turned to head back towards the conference room. It was then he noticed, sitting in Beckett's chair typing furiously on her computer, one Richard Castle. He changed directions and walked up to Beckett's desk.

"Castle, you got a death wish? You've been back less than an hour, and you're already sitting in Beckett's chair? Using her computer? She's going to kick your ass if she finds out." He leaned down and grinned at the doomed man. "However, if you tell me what the HELL is going on around here, I may be persuaded to forget what I'm seeing with my own eyes."

Castle continued typing for a few seconds, then looked up at his friend with scorching intensity. "Like I said earlier, Javier, it's not my story to tell. Now, I've got about an hour to finish this chapter while outlining what's becoming a novella, so please excuse me. Oh, and you can tell Beckett whatever the hell you want." He reread his last sentence, then went back to his speed typing.

Esposito, a homicide detective that had pretty much seen it all, was a hard man to surprise. Castle's cavalier attitude towards Beckett's future reaction stunned him. Six months ago, the author would be begging him to forget what he'd seen, possibly bribing him with a Ferrari weekend or Yankee's tickets. Obviously, the earth had tilted off its axis, up was now down, and nothing made sense. He left his friend to his writing, and returned to the corridor outside the conference room. He began to review Maya Santori's financials with his eyes, as he leaned against the glass wall and strained to hear what was going on inside the conference room.


	23. The Gift Horse

**A/N – **_Thank you all for 'sticking around' for the conclusion of this story. I do believe I have a few surprises in store for you in these last few chapters. Enjoy!_

**Tuesday, September 21st - 9:35 am**

**(the morning after the incident) **

Special Agent Jason Avery knew his own strengths and weaknesses, both as an FBI agent and as a man. He knew he was an exceptional agent, and valued by his partner, the 'legendary' Jordan Shaw. He knew the first impression he gave most people was wrong – most either saw him as a big, cuddly teddy bear of a man; or as a very large, very intimidating federal agent capable of immense violence. Neither of these characterizations came close to capturing the actual Jason Avery.

Although most people assumed Jordan had requested him as her partner for the 'heavy lifting' while tracking serial killers across the country, this couldn't be further from the truth. Their partnership worked because he was everything Jordan Shaw was not. Avery's diplomatic skills allowed them to liaise effectively with local law enforcement, a difficult job made worse by Jordan's prickly personality. His highly analytical mind and methodical manner helped build cases around his partner's intuitive leaps and incessant spontaneity. Most importantly, his terrific acting skills and huge empathy made him a superior interrogator, pulling information out of reluctant witnesses and uncooperative suspects with relative ease.

He was not thrilled with the prospects of today's self-appointed mission. Richard Castle had not dealt him a very strong hand. After swearing him to secrecy, Rick had told him yesterday about Demming's machinations to join Beckett's homicide team. He also related to him what he'd recently discovered about the compromising pictures of the detective, and some unsubstantiated rumors of Demming's proclivities. Avery had been fairly impressed with Beckett during the Dunne case, and was sorely disappointed in her behavior during this entire fiasco. More to the point, he was shocked and appalled at what Demming had done, and disgusted that any law enforcement professional would behave in such a manner.

There were three major problems with trapping Demming today. The first was the simple fact that Demming was, indeed, an experienced police detective. That eliminated a lot of cons and bluffs the fed could run on him, as he would either see through them or ignore them. The second major obstacle was the lack of knowledge they had on Demming's activities. They really had no idea how well he'd covered his tracks, or how many tracks he even had to cover. Having Liz Crawford here to handle the technical aspects would help unearth any actions he'd tried to hide, but finding evidence of criminal behavior on an NYPD phone was, by no means, assured. The third, and by far the worst, issue this morning would be trying to control any results from today's confrontation. Any fallout needed to be kept quiet. Avery could not pursue formal charges against the detective without the pictures, and everything else, becoming public: a fact Demming would be well aware of. If there was no resolution from the meeting, Demming would be forewarned, and there would be no way to control any backlash or retribution from him, or from his powerful relatives on the force. He'd already proven himself capable of just about anything.

However, all was not lost. He did have a few things working in their favor. The first was surprise. Demming had no idea what was going on, and could be kept guessing and off-balance for some time, a condition which Jason needed to take full advantage of. There was no way he could allow Demming to regain his balance, once he started pushing him. His second advantage was Demming's ignorance. It never ceased to amaze the agent how little people knew of federal law or federal procedures, even cops. Another advantage: he now knew his target. Castle had given him a lot of his peculiar insight into the ex-Robbery detective, and somehow sneaked a copy of Demming's service record to him late last night, including his CI list. Still another advantage was standing at the end of the conference table, her suitcase open, fiddling with the electronics inside. He'd worked with Liz Crawford before. She was not only technologically savvy, but a pretty good actress in her own rite. More importantly, after giving her the gist of the story, she was infuriated and outraged, on behalf of women in general and Beckett in particular. Of course, Avery felt that he was equally motivated to teach this asshole a life-changing lesson.

Their game plan decided on, and their game faces in place, Avery welcomed Demming into the conference room with a broad smile and a warm handshake. He directed the jerk-off to a chair, and introduced himself and Liz simply as federal agents. Liz did a great job of smiling shyly at the handsome detective, looking demurely through her long lashes. Demming's return smile was brilliant and confident. Avery started his story.

"We asked you to join us, detective, because we are rolling out a new law enforcement tool, and we are beta testing it with a few select members of the NYPD. You came highly recommended by our contacts at One Police Plaza, so we wanted to spend a couple of minutes to get to know you, and answer any questions you may have."

Demming continued to smile, mostly at the pretty blonde. _This sure sounded like something one of his uncles could have set up._ He asked, "A new tool?"

"Yeah, and it's pretty cool, if I do say so myself." Avery beamed like a proud daddy. "It's an iOS based cellular application that enables cellular phones to synchronize based on their relative global positions."

_Wow, this guy sounded like a huge nerd. He's probably about as much fun as a bag of cement. _"Excuse me?"

The blonde interpreted, in a very sultry voice. "Detective, it's a cellular app that allows you to type in any other cell number, and track its location real time from your phone."

_I bet she's a lot more fun than a bag of cement. Wait a minute, A portable tracking device?_. "Wow. You're kidding!"

Avery shook his head. "Not at all. Here, I'll show you." He looked at a piece of paper on the table in front of him. "Your NYPD cellular phone's number is 212-555-8467, right?" At the detective's nod, he took out his phone, typed in the number, waited a few seconds, then showed the detective his cell screen. Demming's phone number was displayed across the top of the screen. Under the number, a small, flashing red dot was seen on an overlaid map of lower Manhatten, right where the 12th precinct was located.

"That is awesome. What's the range?"

Avery looked disappointed. "Right now, it's only the continental United States and surrounding territorial waters, but we're hoping to improve on that in the near future."

_Whoa! The fun he could have with this!_ "Great! Sign me up!"

"Wonderful. If you would pass your cellular phone to Liz, she can load the software." As Demming was handing his phone to the smiling Crawford, Avery continued. "We'll need you to sign this permission form. It allows us to load the iOS protocols and application, and includes your guarantee that the software will only be used in furtherance of official NYPD business." He slid the form and a pen across to the detective.

The detective turned the form around and began to read it. Agent Crawford interrupted him. "Detective Demming?"

He looked up. "Yes, Agent Crawford?"

Her smile turned a little shy. "Oh, Detective, you can call me Liz."

"Okay, Liz, I'm Tom."

"Okay, Tom. Could you come here and unlock your phone for me, please?" He stood and moved around to the front of the table. His phone was now lying in a small foam nook inside the small suitcase, attached by a USB cable to a computer with both a keypad and monitor screen. The monitor screen showed a video of his phone and the blonde agent, with him just coming into the picture. He pushed 0693 on his cell, and his default screen on his cell appeared. She looked at him and breathed "Thanks."

_"__This fed was pretty damn hot." _You're welcome."

As he walked to the other end of the table and resumed his seat, Avery asked him "Do you have any questions for us, at this time?"

"Yeah, a couple. First of all, how long will this take? I have a … meeting in a few minutes."

"Not long. We need to enhance your phone's GPS capabilities, and download the software and the map templates. Then we need to test it. Your Captain said you needed to be available after ten, and he knows where you are. He said, if you're still here, he'd send someone here to get you. Anything else?"

"What's it called?"

"We named it TRACE – Telephony Requested Acquisition of Cellular Elements."

"Okay – that's fitting. Why me?"

Avery had been hoping he'd ask something like that – or really any open ended question. He needed to buy Crawford some time while she performed her magic. "Several reasons, I gather. The first one is that someone down at One Police Plaza obviously thinks very highly of you. We are only rolling this out to a select few, and your name was on the top of the list." He reached across the table to grab the permission form. Reminded, Demming scrawled his signature on the correct line at the bottom of the form, dated it, and passed it back to the big man. Avery witnessed Demmings signature, added the date, then folded the paper and placed it in his inside pocket , as he continued "Secondly, you have experience in both Robbery and Homicide, and we're trying to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. We think this unique application will prove to be beneficial to both those departments."

Demming had no plans to ever return to a Robbery unit, a fact he didn't need to share with these guys. Avery continued "Another reason was volume and variety. We were told you have more Confidential Informants than almost anyone else on the force. Not only do you have more, but they are spread out all over the five boroughs, and many are homeless or nearly so. Lots of working girls." Demming glanced at Liz, but she was intent on her techie crap, and apparently hadn't heard. "One of the obvious advantages of the software is to save precious time, when tracking down a CI."

"What about legalities? I thought we needed a warrant when running a trace on a suspect."

It's about time! Avery thought that should have been the first question out of any competent investigators mouth. This guy really was a shithead. "Well, it turns out that, in all the fine print people get with their new cell phones, there is a warning that all phones - when activated - can be traced. Using that, our lawyers went to a federal judge, and received blanket permissions to utilize this tool, as long as it's in the quote furtherance of advancing an open criminal investigation end of quote. There is no expectation of privacy, because the cell phone owner's were warned about the capability when they bought their phones." Avery looked up and asked, "How are we doing, Liz?"

Without looking up, her voice totally cold and impersonal, she answered "We hit the Mother Lode, Jason. There's more than enough here. Youth. Money. Interstate usage. I won't know definitively for another couple of minutes, but it looks like it's 100% texts. No emails nor uploads found. Definitely no postings. Six or seven possible co-conspirators found, all with 'company' phones."

Avery now sported a wolfish grin, looking at the perplexed face of the detective. He decided to kid his friend, while the jerk was still confused. "Liz, I thought you said, with that whiz bang toy of yours, you could do this in five minutes or less?"

She finally looked up, her voice seething with rage "I had no idea the sheer volume we'd be contending with. This idiot hasn't deleted anything since he got his phone. Jason, you can go ahead and start, but I'll still need a couple to finish up here."

Demming, his face red, finally exploded "What the hell are you guys talking about? You know what, I don't care. Forget my permission for any tool. Gimme my phone, 'cause I'm out of here!" As he said the last sentence, he stood, and advanced towards the head of the table.

Before he got within six feet of her, Crawford slammed the suitcase lid closed, then pulled her blazer open, revealing her 9 mm Glock. "Take one step closer, Detective, or touch my federal equipment, and I will shoot you in the dick … and I'm a very good shot." There was absolutely no doubt she was deathly serious.

Avery stood, seeming to fill his entire side of the room. His voice was sure, confidant, brooking no dispute. "Sit down, Demming, while I educate you on the facts of life." He pulled three envelopes from his pocket. "I have three documents here. All have your name on them, and all were signed by a federal judge." He displayed three pieces of paper, all with the name 'Thomas Demming' clearly printed at the top. "This one is a writ. It's similar to a writ of habeas corpus, but it instead of demanding the NYPD surrender a person, it demands your phone, and any other phone we need for our investigation. Fortunately, we don't need this, since you gave us complete access to your phone when you stupidly signed that paper."

Demming, who had slid into his chair, leaned forward and declared "I don't know who you think you're fucking with, Avery, but this has gone far enough. For the record, I have never given you permission to go through my … " Here his voice got louder. " … NYPD issued cell phone."

"Demming, we're not recording this, so save your grandstanding. We have your signature authorizing us to access your phone, and a video of you unlocking your phone while it was in the computer dock. That is established consent, free and clear of any dispute."

"That's not what you told me I was signing, you bastard."

Avery didn't even bother to acknowledge the last statement, but instead plowed on. "This second document is a subpoena, requiring your testimony in front of a special federal grand jury. You see, we are investigating a wide range of issues, including corruption, pandering, dissemination of pornography across state lines, contributing to the delinquency, and statutory rape."

"I want my union rep."

Avery leaned his considerable bulk over the table, and thundered "This is a federal case, you sack of shit. You're not entitled to a ANYTHING unless we decide to give it to you. Now, shut up and pay attention. This last document, Demming, is your kiss of death. It's an arrest warrant – your arrest warrant. How much prison time we looking at Liz?"

Crawford didn't bother looking up. "Seven or eight years, easy. That's only if he has a really good attorney, and rolls on his friends."

Avery shook his head. "However, detective, today's your lucky day. I have a friend who thinks we should go easy on you. He doesn't want the reputation of the NYPD tarnished by one bad apple. So, I'm going to hold off on serving either the subpoena or the arrest warrant, for now. However, if you so much as HINT to anybody concerning this investigation, I'll charge you with the works, and throw in an obstruction charge as well. Do we understand each other?"

Crawford, who'd returned to working on her computer, looked up and shook her head. "Jason, I know I initially agreed to follow your lead, but this is too much. Too big. There are 3 or 4 young girls in here, probably his CI hookers, that are 15 or 16 tops. He obviously sold some of these pornographic photos to others, with phrases like 'You owe me twenty' or 'Pay up' accompanying the pics. I can prove that some of those pictures were sent across state lines. He has dozens of deeply disturbing pictures …" and here she looked at him with loathing " … that he appears to view regularly. I don't think we can let this fly."

"You can't prove any of that crap" Demming said weakly, his mind reeling. What friend did Avery have? One of his relatives? How had he let these assholes get access to his phone? They had played him like a weak-minded chump, and he had let them. He needed help, and he needed it now. "You do what you've got to do, Agent Crawford. Just give me my phone back, and I'm out of here."

Avery gave off an evil sounding chuckle. "It's not your phone, douche bag. It's the property of the NYPD, currently in our possession as part of an ongoing investigation. I suggest you purchase a replacement." He passed a business card across the table. "Let me know when you have one, and we'll port your number and contact list over. Needless to say, you won't be seeing your text messages or pictures again, unless it's in a court of law."

The two men stared at each other across the table, neither blinking, until they were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Without moving his eyes, Avery bellowed "Enter!"

The door swung open, revealing a very angry looking Javier Esposito. "Agent Avery, they just passed the word. They're ready for Demming downstairs." Rage seemed to be shimmering off the homicide man like heat off of summer pavement.

"You're dismissed, Demming. Remember my warnings. One wrong word out of you, and you're in a world of hurt."

Demming did his best to ignore Avery as he stood to go, but found his way blocked by Esposito. "You and I are going to have words, hombre, before the day is out. Count on it." He stepped aside, allowing Demming to flee the room.

After a minute, Avery asked the homicide man, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough. I can't understand why you guys didn't throw the book at him."

Avery glanced out the door and lowered his voice. "Detective, I would like nothing better than to see Demming do hard time. Unfortunately, federal laws are as bad, or worse, than state laws. The attorney general's office rarely prosecutes obscenity charges, and then only to further some other prosecution. Even if we could get him into court, he'd be more likely to pay a fine than do any real time."

Crawford added "About the only recourse victims of these crime have is civil litigation, and that's like asking permission to publicly air all your dirty little secrets. It's a catch-22." She looked down at her screen, then back at the smaller man. "Detective, I have six names that are involved in this mess, and we're going to need to grab their I-phones before Demming can get a hold of them. Do you know an Andrew Bowling?"

"Yeah. Detective-Sergeant out of Robbery on the 3rd floor, Dumming's old crew."

"Ronald Laurence?"

"Junior Detective in the same group."

"Shawn Jeffers?"

"Old friend of Dumming's from ESU. I think he's still assigned there. I'll find him."

"Bryan Menneke?"

"Damn! That's the Lieutenant that heads up our Robbery Division!"

"I guess shit flows both ways here, just like it does everywhere else. Of course, you know Katharine Beckett."

"Wait! Dumming sent pictures to HER?"

Avery looked up from the notes he'd been taking. "Yeah, detective, that's how Castle found out about this shit. Apparently, last May Demming somehow got a hold of Beckett's phone, sent photo's to her, then forwarded them on to Rick."

"Photos of Beckett?"

"Detective, I'm sorry, but I'm not at liberty to say."

Espo looked at the big man. "So you haven't seen the pictures?"

"Nope. None. And I have no desire to see any."

Beckett's teammate thought about it a second. "So Castle thought, all summer, that Beckett had sent him … what? Pictures of her and Demming?" Avery just shrugged and shook his head. "No wonder … Anyone else on your list, Crawford?"

"Last one, and it's recent. Anne Hastings?"

"There's another surprise! She's a uniform assigned up here in Homicide. Same deal as Beckett?"

"Don't know, but we should find out. She should at least be told he shared pictures of her with others, including some he didn't send to her."

"What a hairball. How do you know these pictures weren't more widely distributed?"

"First thing we checked, Detective. Unless their I-phones were synced with an I-Mac, and the pictures copied and pasted, we'd have found a digital footprint. And the NYPD doesn't use Macs."

Esposito stared at the blonde, trying to make sense of her words, before giving up. "O-o-okay. Who do you want first?"

Avery asked Crawford, "What was sent to the Lieutenant?"

"Let me check." She was busy on the computer for a few seconds. "Eew. Just a few photos, but the youngest and raunchiest."

Avery took out a federal form, and asked Crawford to spell the Robbery Lieutenant's name. As she recited it, he wrote it down on the form, utilizing beautiful printing approaching calligraphy.

Esposito snorted. "You should do wedding invitations, Avery. Um, guys, I really appreciate all you're doing for us, but Beckett called with another body, so I need to get back to my real job."

Avery looked up with interest. "You have a triple?"

"Down, G-man. It's a local."

Crawford asked "Isn't Richard Castle helping you on the case?"

"Naw. At the moment he's composing a novella in the bullpen."

The blonde asked breathlessly. "Richard Castle is writing? Here? Now? Excuse me for a minute, please." She quickly scurried out.

Avery just chuckled, as he grabbed another official looking form, and transposed Menneke's name on that form, too.

Esposito just snorted. "You guys are something else. There's no such app as 'TRACE', is there?"

"There might be with NSA or CIA, but I've never heard of it. Esposito, could you invite the Lieutenant to join us? We can probably count on him to bring in his subordinates when we're finished. Then, if you could please track down and call Jeffers, the ESU guy, and get him here anytime before noon, I think we can handle the rest."

"On it." Esposito started for the door, but turned back. "Agent Avery? For what it's worth, you did a great job in here. Later, the beer's on me."

"I appreciate that, Esposito. Tell me something . . . . do you think you can take him?"

The detective clenched both fists. "Count on it."

The big man looked over the Latino. "Middleweight?"

Javier Esposito's smile was full of pride and confidence, with more than a hint of malevolence. "Am now. Was a gold glove contender at welterweight once upon a time." He turned and left to go fetch Avery's next victim.


	24. Coffin Nails

**A/N – **_Super long chapter, but there was no good place to break it in two._

**Tuesday, September 21st - 9:38am (the morning after the incident)**

**12****th**** Precinct's 1****st**** floor conference room **

Lieutenant Victoria Gates knocked briskly on the table. Aware of the microphones scattered on the table, she made sure she spoke clearly and concisely. "Okay, people, let's get this show on the road. Inquiry Board number 215239. We are here at the 12th Precinct, on the 21st of September, to insure that all proper procedures were adhered to during the shooting that took place yesterday during a homicide investigation by members of the 12th Precinct's Alpha Homicide team. Board of Inquiry members includes myself, Lieutenant Victoria Gates; as well as Lieutenant Daniel Lankin and Detective 2nd Allison O'Connell; all currently assigned to the Internal Affairs Division. We also have Sergeant Lamont Johnson, posted here at the 12th precinct, and Saul Aronoff, city councilman from the 10th district, as members of this board.

To remind the members, this board is** only** interested in whether or not Detective Thomas E Demming, badge number 40693, followed proper procedure before, during, and after discharging his service weapon on 20 September in the apartment of one Maya Santori, recent homicide victim; Detective Demming being currently on temporary assignment with the aforementioned Homicide Alpha Team. The shooting resulted in one civilian, Richard E Castle, sustaining non-life threatening wounds requiring hospitalization.

This board has received sworn statements from all members of the 12th Precincts Alpha team, which are comprised of team leader Detective 1st Katharine H Beckett, Detective 3rd Javier X Esposito, and Detective 3rd Kevin P Ryan, along with Detective Demming. Has everyone had time to read and review all the statements submitted to this board?" At everyone's nod and murmurs of assent, Gates continued. "Based on the statements, there are certain facts that are not disputed. There were definitely signs of a prior disturbance within the apartment where the shooting took place. The victim of the shooting, Richard Castle, was found standing over the resident's body, and had a firearm, a 38 caliber revolver, in his hand when he was confronted by members of the NYPD. Detective Demming definitely discharged his weapon once, which resulted in Mister Castle's injuries.

Unfortunately, the statements received by this board vary greatly on a number of vital details. Both the threatening nature of the victim, and the actions of Detective Demming immediately prior to, during, and immediately after the shooting are substantially different in these reports. We need to ascertain what actually took place yesterday before we can determine whether Detective Demming acted properly and in an approved manner. Captain Montgomery has informed me that Detectives Ryan and Beckett are currently chasing a suspect, and are presently unavailable. However, Detectives Esposito and Demming are both in the building, and available for questions. Captain Montgomery has also graciously made himself available should we need him. Oddly enough, the victim, Richard Castle, is also here and available. According to Captain Montgomery, Mr. Castle has been used by his department off and on for the last two years as an unpaid civilian consultant.

So, before I decide on our next step, I'd like to hear if anybody has any comments or suggestions, procedurally or otherwise". She looked over at her other panelists, and her fellow Lieutenant raised a finger. "Lieutenant Lankin?"

"Thank you, Lieutenant Gates. First and foremost, although I appreciate the gesture, I'm not sure what Captain Montgomery can add to these proceedings. I see no reason to take any testimony from him. After all, he wasn't there. Similarly, based on my understanding of yesterday's events, Detectives Esposito and Ryan were several yards away, all the way across the room, and weren't in the best position to see what transpired. Plus, if my sources are correct, they are **very **good friends with the victim. I believe they both, either separately or together, spent considerable time at Mister Castle's vacation home on Long Island recently." He purposely paused, allowing the other board members to hopefully draw some very inappropriate conclusions about grown men vacationing together. Lankin knew homophobia was alive and well in the NYPD, and he'd used that to his advantage many times in the past. "Getting unbiased opinions from those two detectives, much less from Mister Castle himself, seems … unlikely."

Gates expression looked like she'd just bitten into something vile. "Thank you, Lieutenant, that sounds reasonable. Are we all agreed further testimony from any of these … gentlemen is unnecessary?" After another round of nods and muttered affirmations, she nodded. "That leaves Detectives Beckett and Demming as possible witnesses."

Allison O'Connell now spoke up, careful to use Gates formal title. "Lieutenant, I'm concerned about deposing Detective Beckett. I'm just not certain she could be totally objective. She has drawn a lot of fame and notoriety as the real life model for Castle's Nikki Heat character. For all we know, she's made a ton of money on the side. At the very least, she's used her relationship with Castle to increase her visibility within the department. I mean, her record is fairly impressive on the surface, but there may very well be some … _additional _reasons she's the fastest woman to ever make detective, and the fastest of anybody in the history of the force to make detective first grade. I'm not sure I'd be willing to rely on anything Nikki He … um Detective Beckett would say." Allison tried not to smile, seeing Gates reaction. Lankin had coached her on how to hit the arrogant IAD bitch's buttons.

"Now hold on, folks" A bass rumble from an appalled looking Sergeant Johnson. "I'm not that familiar with y'alls procedures on these shooting boards, but I'm assuming I was picked 'cause of my knowledge of all the cops involved. I have worked with Detective Beckett's homicide team many times in the past, both in the field and here at the precinct. They are, without a doubt, the best team of cops I have ever seen. With or without Castle, with or without Demming, they are a well oiled machine. Beckett does _everything_ by the book, and I've never seen her cut corners. Esposito and Ryan are both tough and smart. To dismiss their statements because of what someone wrote about them, or where they spent their vacation, don't make much sense."

"Thank you, Sergeant Johnson." Gates voice couldn't be more condescending. "Any other input before I decide how to proceed."

"Yes, Lieutenant Gates, if I may?"

"Certainly, Councilman Aronoff."

"It seems that we have two differing accounts of yesterday's incident. At least some of the board members are worried about the veracity of the lead detective's report. However, if her report **is** accurate, then Detective Demming is lying on his report to exonerate himself. They're mutually exclusive, right? It's either one or the other. Well, I think the solution is obvious."

Gates' patience was wearing thin with these two non-IAD yahoos. "What solution is that, Councilman?"

"Just watch the video!"

Sigh. "What video is that, Councilman? We have both CSU's crime scene report, as well as an onsite report from Detective Brinkman from IAD. If you'd read them, you'd know there was no camera found at the scene."

All politicians are, amongst other things, great showmen. Timing and delivery are critical, whether you are addressing constituents or performing a magic act. Aronoff reached down and a cell phone and some formal looking documents suddenly materialized in his hands. "That's because, Lieutenant, the camera was removed from the scene. Richard Castle was filming the crime scene with his cell phone when his former team burst through the doors. The video was sent to me earlier today, and I've already reviewed it. He captured most of the incident, including the critical elements that are currently disputed in Demming's and Beckett's statements."

"Now, wait a minute!" Demming's brother-in-law started scrambling. "This is highly irregular. There are a lot of reasons that videos are not admitted into legal proceedings. How do we know these pictures weren't clipped or edited, or even photo shopped? This could be just a ploy to confuse us, or worse, to bring a scandal and public lawsuit against the NYPD. There's no way we can use a video supposedly shot by a shooting victim. Everyone would be lining up to try for a Rodney King type settlement against the city."

Aronoff's eyes were piercing, his voice full of anger. "Lieutenant Lankin, we'll discuss what is highly irregular momentarily. Let me reassure you, I love the NYPD, and all the men and women who protect and serve this city honorably. I would **never** do anything to detract from their accomplishments, or besmirch them in any way. That being said, part of our job here, and part of **your** job in Internal Affairs, is to cull from the herd all those individuals who do not bring respect to their badges, or who might act improperly.

Now, though you may not be aware of the fact, I'm an attorney, a member of the New York State bar, and an officer of the court. Videos are used in court all the time, as long as they have proper foundation. It is up to the judge and the jury to determine their validity. I received this video from a fellow officer of the court, a friend, and a highly respected lawyer. I have here affidavits from both Richard Castle and his attorney, James MacDougal, attesting to the veracity of this video stream." He slammed two pieces of paper down on the table, one at a time. "I also have from probationary officer Tory Ellis, an NYPD technical expert, a statement verifying the … er … unedited and unmodified state of the video." Another piece of paper slammed down on the table.

As far as lawsuits go, Richard Castle signed a document two years ago that prohibits him or any of his agents from suing the NYPD, or any of its current members. It's quite a remarkable document, and I can't believe anyone in their right mind would sign it. So, unless one of the participants leaves or is fired from the NYPD, there is zero chance of a lawsuit." Another, much thicker document slammed on the table.

Aronoff now adopted a more contemptuous attitude. "Now, _Lieutenant Dan_, let's discuss what is truly 'highly irregular'. I have a couple more pieces of paper here. They're actually pictures and texts downloaded from a couple of facebook accounts. The first is from your wife's facebook, which she must have posted back on your recent wedding anniversary. Congratulations, by the way. This is your wife's account, isn't it, Lieutenant? Mrs. Julia Demming Lankin?" Aronoff passed the paper over.

"Demming?" Gates was shocked. "Dan, Julie is related to Detective Demming?"

When Lankin didn't answer immediately, Aronoff supplied the response "Brother and sister."

Gates sounded pissed. "Councilman Aronoff is right, Dan. This is highly irregular."

Before Lankin could respond, Aronoff added "It seems like it's a family affair, Lieutenant Gates. My last document here is a facebook posting from Detective O'Connell's mother-in-law, Theresa O'Connell."

"The Deputy Commissioner's wife?"

"One and the same. It includes a picture with a Christmas tree in the background, and shows all the brothers and sisters and cousins and their spouses, including the Lieutenant here, the Detective there, plus all the Demmings."

Gates glared at Detective O'Connell. The IAD detective managed a whispered "I really don't know him that well. I kind of married into the family."

Gates took a deep, calming breath. Then another. The very air crackled with tension. "Lieutenant Lankin and Detective O'Connell! You have both worked in Internal Affairs long enough to be aware of your … poor judgment today. There's always a considerable amount of anxiety from the citizens of this great city when someone asks 'Who polices the police?'. _Quis custodiet ipsos custodes_? Those of us in Internal Affairs must show the New York citizenry we are above reproach. It's just as important that we show the rest of the NYPD we are scrupulously honest. Having even one of you on this board to examine Detective Demming's conduct is inappropriate and a conflict of interest, at the very least. Having TWO of you on this board is totally unacceptable, and borders on extra-legal. You are both dismissed. I want both of you in my office today at 1:00 pm, to explain yourselves. That is all." Her eyes were smoldering as they both stood and walked out the door.

As soon as they got out of Gates' hearing, Lankin whispered urgently to O'Connell "Allison you need to call Tom. I'll go up to his desk to see if he's there. We have to warn him of the shit storm he's walking into."

After they'd left, Gates turned towards the others. "Gentlemen, on behalf of myself, my captain, and my entire department, I apologize for their being here. Please believe me, I had no idea they were related to Detective Demming, or DC O'Connell. What a mess." She shook her head. "Now, councilman, is there any way to view that video on the A-V screen in the room, or do we need to pass around the phone?"

"No, if I plug a UCB into here and turn it on, it should … wait, I need to bring up the message … okay, turn on the viewer … menu … not that one, let's try this one … okay, here we are."

Lieutenant Gates, Sergeant Johnson, and Councilman Aronoff watched over a minute of a jerky and amateurish video of the crime scene, including Castle's commentary.

"I assume that is Mister Castle's voice?"

The sergeant's rumble "Yeah, I recognize it."

They continued to watch as Castle's voice continued " … another shell casing, looks like a 45 …" Then, in a strangled whisper, "Oh, crap! Someone's here. Looks like they're coming back … Oh Jesus … Nowhere to hide … Ryan, Espo, I'll try to get shots of their face, in case they get me … oh, god, please go away … Oh, I forgot about her gun … let me grab it … shit … please, tell me you didn't hear that …"

Johnson wondered aloud "I wonder if he was aware he was narrating?"

Loud breathing could be heard distinctly, the camera now jittering at the room's closed door. Then the door flew open, two men in suits gripping 9 mm pistols "Show me your hands."

At the same time, a woman's voice from off screen shouted "NYPD".

A huge gasp, a sob, then the camera angle rose as Castle stood. "Oh, Thank God. I am so glad to see you guys. I was beginning to think I was in real trouble." Both detectives had lowered their weapons, the fair one already holstering his weapon.

Johnson explained "That's Ryan on the left, Esposito on the right."

The woman's voice again. "Castle?"

The camera turned, briefly showing a man and woman, both well dressed. The man's handgun was pointed at the ceiling, the woman's lowered to the floor. The screen then showed wall and frosted glass.

"Beckett?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I … uh …" the camera jumped.

"Rick, put the gun down."

"Oh … sure." The camera angle now bounced, swinging left towards the wall, then right back towards the man and woman cops. They were askew, centered on the screen at a 45 degree angle. The woman quickly holstered her weapon, smiling. Suddenly, as the now red-faced man gripped his weapon with both hands and lowered it into a shooting position, she shouted "NO" and tried to grab the man's gun just as it went off. Suddenly, the camera was spinning, then stopped with a static view of the ceiling.

Gates asked, while seemingly dreading the answer, "Demming and Beckett?"

"Yes, ma'am".

"Sergeant Johnson, don't call me ma'am".

Although the screen didn't change, they continued to listen. Above some muttered Spanish cursing they could distinctly hear a woman yelling "Oh my God, Demming, what did you do?"

"Hey, the asshole was holding a gun."

"Which he was putting down!"

"Hey, don't pin this on me, this is **your** fault. If you hadn't jostled my aim, I would have shot it right out of his hand!"

_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . __"C'mon, amigo. You gotta breathe, Castle. Just take a breath."_

"Detective Demming, we've discussed proper shooting procedures before. I warned you what would happen if you tried that shit. Now please hand over your service weapon."

_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . __"Javier. What happened?"_

"Fuck you, Beckett. I'm not giving you my gun. Look, your little buddy Espo-hole is right there, and Castle's fine. "

_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "I don't know, bro, but I'm damn sure going to find out." _

"Demming, last chance. Place your weapon in this evidence bag."

_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . __"You were shot."_

Demming's voice, muttering "fuck!"; followed by Beckett's furious "Now I want you to go directly to Captain Montgomery's office. Here. Take my unit. Do not stop anywhere, do not talk to anybody, until you've reported to the captain. Am I clear?"

_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _"_Esposito, I don't care how well you sing, I'm not that easy."_

"Whatever" Demming's voice, now much quieter but still distinct. "Wow. What a bitch."

_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . __"Don't kid yourself, Castle. You are exactly that easy."_

Beckett, barking orders. "Ryan, please make sure he gets in the right car, then direct the EMTs and CSU up here. Okay? Thanks ... This is one Lincoln forty; I need a bus at 2114 Savoy Street, Apartment 417. We need an ambulance NOW. … Tell them we have an officer down. I'll have someone on the street to meet them."

Castle's voice. "Is Ryan okay?"

Beckett: "Everybody's okay but you, Castle. Esposito, what's it look like?"

Esposito: "He'll live. The bullet grazed his side under his arm. If he was a little skinnier, it might have missed him completely."

Beckett: "Rick, if you're up to it, can you tell me what you're doing here?"

Castle: "Maya called, told me she was in trouble. Needed my help. It only took me about twenty minutes to get here, but I was too late for her. I found her on the bed … like that … Oh, shit, that hurts."

Beckett: "News flash, Castle. Getting shot hurts. … Espo, I'm going to call CSU here for our scene, and then make damn sure IAD shows up for this cluster fuck. You need anything?"

Esposito:"I could use another handkerchief …_rip _…. I hope you didn't like that shirt."

"Beckett: "I liked it fine, but I like Castle more … I'll see you at the hospital, Rick."

A few seconds pause, followed by:

Castle: "Esposito, I'm getting mixed signals here."

Esposito: "What?"

Castle: "Beckett. She treats me like a partner, then for a month she shits all over me. She sends me the text message from hell, then spends the rest of the summer sending apologies. She goes ahead and shoots me, just like she always threatened to do, even though she says she likes me better than one of her favorite shirts … I'm guessing she's really hard on the rest of her wardrobe."

Laughter, followed by "She didn't shoot you, bro, and we all know Beckett loves her clothes." More laughter follows.

There was some obvious movement of equipment, and commentary from the EMTs, before a grunting sound and Esposito's voice yelling "Careful!" Just A little time later, the camera was finally picked up, and after a quick glimpse of a bloody shirt and a white guy on a gurney, the comment "Here's your phone" came just before the video ended.

Several seconds of silence in the room, and then finally a comment from Sergeant Johnson. "Jesus. I guess we know _whose_ account is right." He shook his head and chuckled. "You know, there was a pool in the precinct about if and when Beckett and Castle would hook up. Most of us thought Castle was chasing Beckett, but I guess we got it wrong."

Lieutenant Gates stared at Johnson like he was something she'd found on the bottom of her shoe. "Sergeant Johnson, having a betting pool in the precinct is against regulations, and a pool betting on the sexual activities of a fellow officer is totally inappropriate." She switched her focus on Aronoff. "Do you, councilman, believe this video to be an accurate depiction of yesterday's events?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Sergeant?"

"Yeah, Lieutenant, what we saw today is consistent with what I know of those involved. What a ….."

"Something to add, Sergeant Johnson?"

"No, ma … uh, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, gentlemen. I have several comments. The most obvious is that Detective Beckett's statement appears to be the one that's the most accurate. As a matter of fact, it's uncannily correct."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been chairing these boards for a long time, Sergeant. Despite all the training and real life experience a police officer encounters, their witness statements usually vary from each other, and from reality, at least a little. Our lead detective's signed statement is very detailed, and almost word perfect."

"Meaning … ?"

"Meaning, she probably viewed this video prior to writing her statement. Though that's not in and of itself improper, I find it curious that she wouldn't share that with her team mates."

Johnson's deep voice answered "Lieutenant Gates, I don't know how much experience you have with a precinct's rumor mill, but here at the 12th there's scuttlebutt always flying around, and a lot of it centers around Beckett's team. Earlier this year, Demming took a run at Beckett, and it looked like they were starting to date, then all of a sudden they weren't. A month later, Demming got himself temporarily assigned to her team, and nobody was happy about it, including Captain Montgomery. Word was, Demming's uncle at the 133rd, Captain O'Connell, pulled some strings."

"So, the animosity displayed by Detective Demming to his team lead was not an aberration?"

The basso voice took on a tone of wonder. "Actually, Lieutenant, I'm amazed at Beckett's lack of reaction. Her reputation is that she doesn't put up with much, and is capable of taking anyone who messes with her or her team and ripping them a new one."

"So, Sergeant, you're saying that in spite of some personal issues intermixed in all this, Detective Beckett displayed admirable professionalism and restraint? I wonder if she somehow knew she was going to be being filmed?"

Aronoff's expression was incredulous. "Lieutenant, there is no way Beckett could have foreseen that scenario. Her surprise was total when she entered that room. Moreover, I can't believe for a minute she would willingly jeopardize her friend Castle's life in any way."

Gates sighed. "You're probably right. So, let's see what we have. Detective Demming, either due to malicious intent or extremely poor judgement, discharged a single shot, attempting to shoot the revolver out of Mister Castle's hand. At the time, Mister Castle was not acting in a threatening manner, whatsoever. That flies in the face of half a dozen established FOP codes, and is almost certainly prosecutable. He then argued with and verbally abused his team leader, prior to finally surrendering his weapon and leaving the scene. As bad as all that is, it pales in comparison to this huge pile of … fabrications that constitute his sworn statement. He has shown absolutely none of the good judgment or integrity we rightfully expect from our police officers. I seriously doubt he has any future here as a member of the NYPD.

Additionally, we have procedural breakdowns by Detective's Beckett and Ryan. The holstering of their service weapons while in the presence of an armed civilian is totally against established practice. The use of profanity by Beckett, though common amongst the rank and file, should not be condoned. A written reprimand in both their files should curb future breaches of protocol. Comments?"

Surprisingly, Aronoff spoke up. "I'd like to point out some mitigating circumstances. First of all, Beckett and Ryan were not in the presence of a civilian, but a known NYPD consultant, a colleague with whom they had previously worked. Secondly, I thought Beckett's use of the English language while describing that scenario, though colorful, was spot on. Lastly, I believe I read where Demming was an expert with a handgun, and he _was_ trying to shoot the weapon, not Mister Castle, before Beckett grabbed for his weapon."

"Councilman, Detective Demming had the opportunity to describe those circumstances in his statement, and chose not to. He was using 9mm jacketed slugs in his Glock. Any NYPD member who qualifies as an expert has their option to use this ammunition. It is a heavier slug, and has considerably more gunpowder than a common load, giving it more velocity and range. It is less likely to tumble, so is considered to be much more accurate. Had he hit the gun in Mister Castle's hand, it is very likely to have torn off several of Mister Castle's fingers. Had it hit his wrist side on, it very likely would have removed his entire hand. Mister Castle owes Detective Beckett a huge debt of gratitude."

Aronoff sighed, looking unhappy. "Sergeant Johnson, would you be kind enough to go find Detective Demming, and ask him here to join us? Without, of course, discussing any of these proceedings."

Johnson looked at Gates, who nodded. "Captain Montgomery said he would most likely be in the 4th floor conference room. If not there, he's at his desk."

Johnson got up and left, feeling like he'd been dismissed from the room like a child with fighting parents. Aronoff waited until he closed the door, before asking "So, it's your intention to get Demming dismissed from the force?"

"Absolutely. There is no way that … man … should have a badge. If you'd be kind enough to send me that video, I'll make sure the District Attorney's office views it, in case they want to prosecute the idiot."

"Lieutenant Gates. While I appreciate your zeal, I would remind you that any dismissal recommendation from this board would be just that … a recommendation. It would have to be reviewed and approved by a separate committee. Based on what happened here earlier, and now knowing the detective's far flung network of friends and powerful relatives, how likely is our recommendation to be upheld?"

"Well, Councilman, that's really not my concern."

"Perhaps it should be. What we have here is a detective with, up until yesterday, an unblemished and exemplary record of service. Regardless how egregious the offense, first time offenders, especially 14 year veterans, are rarely fired.

I would also point out the particulars of the contract Richard Castle signed with the city. It absolves all **current** members of the NYPD from being on the wrong end of a lawsuit; and trust me when I say, knowing Castle's lawyer, they'd definitely be on the wrong end. If Demming's fired, James MacDougal would have him in civil court within thirty days, and engineer enough media coverage that it would be the top news story for weeks. As I said earlier, I love the NYPD, and would like to avoid all that negative press. I can guarantee you, a possible multi-million dollar lawsuit and the attendant publicity would definitely be taken into consideration by a dismissal board.

Now, you know and I know, this guy has it coming. But, how likely is he to be called to account, if we exceed our mandate? He's well connected, looks like a recruiting poster, and came within a hair's breadth of skating through **us** unscathed today. Without the information I received just minutes before arriving, we probably would have had Demming as our sole witness, and he wouldn't have received anything worse than a slap on the wrist. I think our best course of action is to give him enough rope to hang himself, and give him the maximum punishment we can without giving him the basis for an appeal."

Gates looked at the councilman with new respect. "What rope would you suggest we give him?"

"Let him come in and testify, reiterating everything in his statement for the record. Then we have him on tape, and any appeal of his would include the transcript of this morning."

She shook her head. "I'm sure either Lieutenant Lankin or Detective O'Connell would have warned him of what has transpired this morning. He's forewarned."

"I am under the impression that he's been sequestered in a meeting for the past half hour, and his NYPD issued cell phone has been unavailable to him."

Gates squinted at the man. "Councilman Aronoff, why do I get the feeling I'm being played?"

"On the contrary, Lieutenant Gates. The way I see it, I'm doing my damndest to make sure that we both **don't** get played."

Gates was very aware that she was the sole member from IAD remaining on this Board of Inquiry, and the responsibility weighed heavily on her. She wanted to punish Demming, and make sure he stayed punished. Additionally, she wanted to make sure that there was no reason for anybody to review the records from today's deliberations. As angry as she was with Lankin' and O'Connell's duplicity, there was no reason that IAD's dirty laundry needed to be aired publicly.

The door opened, admitting Sergeant Johnson and Detective Demming. Johnson pointed Demming towards a chair, and walked around the table to retake his chair.

Gates thought Demming looked spooked, probably expecting to see his relatives on this side of the table. "Detective Demming, my name is Lieutenant Victoria Gates. This Board of Inquiry is examining the events of yesterday, September 20th, when you fired and wounded Mister Richard Castle at the apartment of one Maya Santori. We're fairly certain we have a good understanding of what transpired yesterday, but thought it would be a good idea to get your testimony on record. For your information, you're the only witness we expect to have testify, so we'd appreciate a full and complete account."

Demming hid a smile. Though surprised that his brother-in-law Dan and his cousin Allison were absent, having him as the lone individual testifying is exactly what Dan had predicted and what they had both wanted to happen. After the crap with the feds, he was a little off his game, and began his description of the shooting a little shakily. However, soon he was into the swing of things. As his confidence grew, he added a few corroborating details not included in his statement. His shout of warning, Castle's aggressive behavior, and the murderous look in the writer's eyes were all enumerated in detail. He was careful that his oral presentation varied slightly from his written statement. Dan had warned him against parroting the statement too closely. It took him about five minutes before he was finished.

All three stared at the Detective, stone faced as only cops can be. Finally Gates asked "Is that it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Lieutenant Gates straightened in her chair, and threw a fierce look. "Detective, if my Mother comes into this room, you can call her ma'am. Please address me as 'Lieutenant' or 'Sir' ".

"Okay." Wow, Dan was right, she was a bitch. He'd forgotten his warning on addressing Gates.

"Were you aware, Detective, that your version of events varies greatly with your team leader's version?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why is that, do you suppose?"

"Lieutenant, I apologize, but I'd rather not say." _That's right, Tom, play hard to get. Reel her in._ At her glower, he added "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not comfortable disparaging a superior officer."

"You may speak freely here, Detective."

Demming was contrite. "Well, Lieutenant, Councilman, Lamont, as some of you may know, I was in a brief romantic relationship with Detective Beckett earlier this year. When it became apparent that I was going to be appointed to her team, which was in dire need of help, I broke it off. I'm very cognizant of the rules prohibiting fraternization amongst team members, and take them very seriously. Kate, er, Detective Beckett was very unhappy about that. Fortunately, it has worked out for the best. Our team, after I joined, became the only NYPD squad to receive the 'Top NYC Unit' award this year. However, because of Detective Beckett's continued … discomfort … I have been looking into transferring to a different homicide unit. Teams at the 133rd, the 5th, and the 48th all have openings, and have expressed an interest in having me join their teams."

"Really, Mr. Demming? Homicide? I was thinking more along the lines of the SSD."

"Pardon me?" What? The Special Services Division? They were the lowest of the low, where the force tried to hide all the burn-outs, psycho's, and idiots. Traffic control for events, winter motorcycle duty for parades and funerals, and the transport of prisoners were the GOOD jobs in SSD. The bad jobs didn't bear thinking about.

"Were you aware , Mr. Demming, that your account not only differs from Detective Beckett's, but from the video taken at the scene?"

The smile fled Demming's face. "Video?"

" Yes, Mister Demming. There's a video of you shooting Richard Castle, in cold blood, as he was putting his weapon down. It also shows your disrespectful and childish behavior immediately after the shooting. It totally refutes this collection of falsehoods in your statement, and your dishonest drivel in front of this board. Mister Demming, STAND UP!"

Demming staggered to his feet, all of the blood drained from his face. _This could not be happening!_

"Mr Demming, this board finds you completely at fault in yesterday's shooting of Richard Castle. Your lack of control, your disrespect of the law and your fellow NYPD members, is reprehensible. Your mendacity in trying to cover your misdeeds is repulsive. You dishonor the badge.

It is the finding of this board that you should be suspended immediately, for the next 90 days. That suspension will be unpaid, because I don't believe in rewarding behavior such as you've demonstrated with vacation time. You are to be demoted 3 full grades. At the conclusion of your 90 day suspension, _Patrolman_ Demming, you will report to the duty Sergeant in SSD at One Police Plaza for assignment. Am I clear, Mister Demming?"

Demming finally found his voice. "You … you … You can't do that! I'm a good cop! Fourteen years of exemplary service, and you want to throw that away on the freak squad? Forget it. I'll quit. The State Police and the Sherriff's Department would welcome me with open arms, and probably at a higher pay grade! So you can shove your suspension!"

Aronoff spoke for the first time since Demming entered the room. Unlike the thundering of Gates, his tone was calm and collected, oil on turbulent waters. "Mister Demming? A moment, please. You need to be aware of a few facts. Fact number one – if you leave the protection of the NYPD anytime in the next five years, I will personally give all of the information gathered by this commission to the DA, and ask them to prosecute you for assault with intent. A 3rd degree felony. As an ex-prosecutor, let me advise you: it's a slam dunk. Secondly, if I don't miss my guess, there's a lawyer out that door just 'dying' to sue you for every penny you'll ever make during the rest of your life. Fortunately for you, he can't sue you if you are with the NYPD. Unfortunately for you, he's never … EVER … lost a case. Only New York lawyer I know that can make that claim. So, you might want to re-think your employment future. You're dismissed."

Reeling, Demming spun and headed for the door. What's the point of having family connections, if they left you in the lurch? He had some calls to make, right now! As he exited, there were two men standing against the wall opposite the conference room door. The younger of the two, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt covered by a suede blazer, pushed off the wall and simply said "Thomas E Demming, you've been served" while pushing a piece of paper into his startled hands. The young man then strode down the hall towards the Precincts lobby.

Chuckling at the now cursing Demming, the older man paused a few feet in front of Demming and waved a hand invitingly towards the door of a smaller meeting room. "Mister Demming, I appreciate you are having a difficult day, but I promise you it will become infinitely worse unless you take a few minutes to speak to me and my colleague."

"And you are?"

"James MacDougal, attorney at law."

"I've just been warned about you. So, you want me to meet with you so you can sue me?"

"Oh, no, Mister Demming. You've already been served, so the only thing between you and impoverishment approaching abject poverty is your continued employment by the New York Police Department. No, sir, this is more in the arena of a warning of coming storm clouds, a little free advice that I rarely indulge in. However, one of my favorite clients has asked me to give you this 'heads up'!"

Demming was chivied towards the open door. He walked into the darkened room, followed immediately by the dapper little lawyer, who turned on the overhead lights as he shut the door. Camped on the other side of the table, a couple of sheets of typewritten paper in front of him, blinking in the sudden light, sat Richard Castle.

"Oh, HELL no!" Demming bulked, stopping his forward progress. "I'm not saying anything incriminating."

"I strongly recommend you take a minute to talk to my client."

Castle held up his hand, stopping his lawyer from further speech. "Actually, Demming, you don't need to say a word. I just wanted to thank you personally, while I had the chance."

Demming considered this for a few seconds, then shrugged. "Okay, Castle, I bite." He spun the nearest chair around and straddled it, his arms resting on the back of the chair. "Why are you thanking me? For allegedly shooting you."

Castle's smile was wide, and apparently guileless. "For inspiring me, Tom. I haven't written this fast, or this well, in years. The words, the story is just leaping out from my mind to the pages. Here." He passed a piece of paper to Demming.

He turned it around and read 'The Fading Blue Line, a story by Richard Castle'. Beneath this, in smaller italicized print, he read _'The author would like to thank Thomas E Demming, NYPD, for his inspiration and invaluable help. This story would not have been possible without him._'

"Castle, I never gave you permission to use my name and, in case you wondered, you won't ever have permission to use my name in one of your sleazy stories."

"Actually, Demming, it's called an acknowledgement. I don't need your permission. Now, if you gave me help and I _didn't_ acknowledge you, you could try to sue me. But not the other way around."

"Doesn't matter, I'll sue you anyway."

Castle shrugged. "Go ahead. For your information, there are three industries that attract the top legal talent in this country. The Insurance industry, financial institutions, and the publishing industry. Good luck making new law."

Castle's enthusiasm returns. He eagerly explains "Now, let me tell you about this project, _The Fading Blue Line_. It's a serial, and will appear in the New Yorker a chapter at a time. It'll have both Jameson Rook and Nikki Heat making a bunch of cameo appearances, which will guarantee a very strong following, especially in the city. But the main protagonist will be an intrepid investigative reporter by the name of Michelle Nguyen. She discovers corruption throughout the NYPD. Apparently, an old style Captain back in the 1970's got into bed with a couple mafia families, and basically took over the trucking industry in and around the city. Extortion, theft, payoffs, and murder ensue. This Captain, who I called Jake Connelly, married well, and had lots of kids. They grew up, became cops, and had kids, who grew up to be cops. And so on!

Isn't it great? A multi-generational crime family **_in the middle of the NYPD_**. Totally impregnable. By now, they are into a lot more than the trucking industry. The capo's of yesterday have given way to the cartels of today. Drugs, women, and especially protection.

Michelle goes to the DA, the feds, her newspaper contacts, but can't get anywhere, until she meet's the story's other hero. A fallen officer, grandson of Captain Connelly, who recently fell on hard times. He confides in her, and suddenly they are on the run, with EVERYBODY wanting them dead."

Castle grimaces, and continues. "I know it sounds kind of formulaic, but I swear it'll be very fresh and new. At least, that's what my editor is saying, who's thrilled with it so far. This is the first time I've tried to do a serial like this, but she says I can keep it going as long as I want. Pull in other families, like the Larkins or the Berrance families. IAD cover ups, huge HR and medical fraud, it can go on forever."

Castle's face, expression, and body language have gradually changed during his description, from the enthusiasm of the author to a very hard edged anger. He finally finishes with his coup de grace. "Oh, the cop's name? Tim Fleming."

Demming's face has grown ashen. "God, Castle, what are you trying to do? This is my family you're fucking with, and trust me, they do NOT have a sense of humor. Not about this shit. You won't get away with any of this crap. This is actionable. Slander, Liable. Or worse. "

"What are you talking about, Demming? It's fiction. Make believe. 'Any resemblance to actual people, either real or imagined …' You know? Who'd possibly get upset about a story, much less freaked out by one?"

Demming is holding his head up with both hands. "Everyone knows you base your stories on real life characters, you asshole. Oh, God. You don't have to do this, Castle."

Castle stood up. "I don't? I DON'T?"

MacDougle cautioned "Rick!" but he waved him off.

"Let me tell you something, Demming. If the most important thing in your life was money, I would have found a way to take every cent from you, and have you so far in debt you'd never qualify for a credit card application the rest of your miserable life. If the most important thing to you was a wife or girlfriend, she'd be naked in my bed at home now, just counting the minutes until I returned to ravish her again. But no, you'd do anything to advance your career, and you count on your shady, asshole relatives to help you. 'Ut sementem feeceris'. I left you an outline for the first three installments, as a courtesy, oh great and wonderful muse. Happy reading, Demming." Castle strode to the door, opened it, and shut it behind him.

Demming stood, looking at the paper on the desk. He asked the lawyer, "Is he really going to publish this crap?"

"He said he would, and he'd make a lot of money, and a lot of new fans, if he does."

"What did he say there, at the end? Sementim feces?"

"It's latin. 'You reap what you sow'. Good day, Mr Demming" and the lawyer followed his client out the door.


	25. Sweet Relief

**A/N – **_Some chapters are easy to write, where the characters just speak to me. And then, there are chapters like this one and the next one …._

**Tuesday, September 21st - 11:20am (the day after the incident)**

**12th Precinct**

Immediately after his confrontation with Demming, Castle had been briefed by Councilman Aronoff concerning the Board of Inquiry's findings. After promising his future support in the next election, he bid a fond farewell to Aronoff and his attorney, before returning to the 4th floor. He found the homicide bullpen empty with the exception of Esposito. The Latino detective was sitting at his desk, exchanging pleasantries with a tall, bald cop decked out in NYPD SWAT gear. Castle returned to Beckett's chair, and resumed working on his _Fading Blue Line _story. Although his chair at home in his office was much more comfortable, and his own computer much more modern, he was experiencing a vicarious thrill in using Beckett's desk for writing. Perhaps it was because it was so _apropos _to write this specific story here, or maybe it was because it was 'against her rules' and would piss off Beckett when she invariably found out. Regardless, he was having a ball as his fingers flew across her keyboard.

Castle, lost in his writing, gradually became aware of others in the bullpen. A couple of robbery detectives, Boling and Laurence, were approaching Beckett's desk. They both paused, looking extremely pissed. Esposito was escorting the SWAT guy down the hall, leaving Castle alone with these two clowns. He stopped his writing long enough to look up at Demming's friends, now looming over the desk.

"You think you're clever, don't you, Castle?"

Castle shrugged. "Hey, I'm not alone. Most people think I'm clever."

Lawrence leaned over the desk. "Listen up, writer boy. Just because you resent Beckett, or you're jealous of Demming, that's no excuse to jam us up. If you got a problem with Demming, settle it with Demming, just don't drag us into your shit."

"I didn't drag you guys in, Demming did. Or, you and Demming did."

"Yeah, but he didn't sic the feds on us. You did."

Castle looked surprised. "How the hell did I do that, Boling? You think Demming confided in me, right after shooting me? You think I got the FBI on speed dial? There's only one person that could have given your name to the feds. You guys are barking up the wrong tree."

The Robbery detectives exchanged a look. Laurence shook his head and snarled "Just watch your back, Castle."

By this time, Esposito had returned, and was standing right behind the two detectives unnoticed. He growled, "_We_ got his back, Laurence. Me, Ryan, Montgomery, hell, most of the cops in this building, the _mayor,_ the commissioner, and especially Beckett." Esposito's smile was tight, and mean. "You don't want to start a war, 'cause you'll lose. Big."

The robbery detectives looked at the smoldering Esposito, then back at Castle, before moving towards the stairs. Castle called after them, off handedly "Oh, gentlemen! When you talk to Demming, would you please ask him where he got his software? That's some of the best photo shopping I've ever seen."

They exchanged another look between themselves, before Boling muttered "Screw you" and they fled to the stairs.

Castle returned to his writing. Esposito sat down in the side chair and glared at him. Castle waited until he got to the end of a paragraph, finishing a section of his story, before commenting "Beckett's right. Staring is creepy."

"Castle!"

"Esposito?"

"Why didn't you tell me, bro? I woulda helped."

Castle sighed. "First of all, Javi, I just found out. I didn't know most of this crap until yesterday at the hospital, and some not 'til late last night. By then, I barely had enough time to pull it together for today. Secondly, as I said earlier, it's not my tale to tell."

"No wonder you were so pissy this summer. How bad were they?"

"I really don't know. The ones I was sent were only suggestive." He frowned, then grinned. "Of course, it's Beckett, so they truly fired the imagination."

"So, what now?"

"Well, I'm waiting to hear from Avery and Crawford on how widely dispersed these were. I have Paula on standby, in case some pictures leaked out."

Esposito shook his head. "From what I overheard, they got a handle on all of 'em. There was apparently _a lot of _crap on Dumming's phone, but a very narrow distribution list. Your pet feds are talking to the last one now."

"Oooo! Pet feds! That would be awesome!"

"Castle! Cut it out. How'd Demming's hearing go?"

"It was a total disaster, at least for ex-Detective Demming."

Esposito stared, slack jawed. "They canned him?"

"Naw, that would have been more than they could legally do. My attorney and I got it straight from the city councilman, Aronoff, who was on the board. Nice guy. Anyway, they slammed him. 90 days unpaid, demoted to patrolman, and transferred to something called SSD."

Esposito's smile was beatific. "Special Services Division. It's basically the short bus for the NYPD. The Loser's squad. It's where all those that can no longer do the job, or never should have had the job in the first place, get sent."

"You know, there is something inherently wrong with an organization that has an entire department full of people who aren't qualified to work in said organization."

"Whatever …. Ya know, I'll be surprised if he doesn't pack it in. I've never heard of a shooting board coming down so heavy on anybody who wasn't also charged with a crime."

"Well, if Demming quits the force in the next five years, he'll not only be charged in court, but he'll be slapped with a monstrous civil suit."

Esposito started working it out. "Okayyyyy, if Demming quits, the NYPD gets a whole lot of negative publicity. So-o-o-o, the NYPD decides to keep him on, and shuffle him off to SSD. Won't all Demming's relatives just transfer him out and promote him once the heat dies down?" As Castle handed him a piece of paper, he asks "_The Fading Blue Line? _What's this?"

"That, Esposito, is my brilliant new series that will appear monthly in the New Yorker. It describes the criminal activities of Deputy Commissioner of Transportation, Mickey Connelly, his dad, Captain Jake Connelly, his brother at the 155th, Roger Connelly, and all the other relatives that are knee deep in nefarious activities."

"Holy Shit Castle! … '_would like to thank Thomas E Demming, NYPD, for his inspiration and invaluable help. This story would not have been possible without him._' I gotta say, Castle, you sure got a big pair of brass ones. Don't you worry about getting backshot? You're basically condemning Demming to a career as a beat cop in the dipshit department." Another thought occurred to Esposito. "Hey, won't this piss off your friend the mayor, as well as the freaking police commissioner, 'cause you're trashing the force. You are playing with fire, hombre."

"Javier, this stays between us, right?" He waited until Esposito nodded. "I talked to Bob a couple of times last night, who discussed this discretely with the Commissioner. There's a whole bunch of politics involved, but, simply put, those two have been after the O'Connell group for quite a while. There have been weird contracts when the NYPD buys cars, gas, towing contracts. Missing money. Bizarre happenings with custom terminals at the airports and the port authority. Uneven enforcement of traffic laws, _for_ some trucking and taxi companies and _agains_t others. Limo companies driven out of business by getting ticketed to death. Several charges have been discussed, but there's really not anything that would hold up in court. Any investigations up to now, since they stay internal to the NYPD, die a quick death; this group has become pretty much untouchable. Up to now it's just been rumors, those internal investigations that got squashed, and a slew of citizens complaints which always seem to evaporate like smoke in the wind. Never any proof, no smoking gun. So, I gathered together all the rumors and squashed investigations and citizen complaints, put them in chronological order, and am now writing a spectacular monthly serial for the _New Yorker …"_

Esposito finished the statement. " … which will make the public and newspaper journalists start to take a closer look, so then the feds get interested, and some bit players get nervous and turn state's evidence …"

"… and the whole enchilada comes crashing down. Oh, speaking of which, I need to order lunch. Hungry?"

"Starving. We really missed your free lunches this summer."

Castle took out his phone. "They're not _free, _Esposito, just because _you_ don't pay for them." Castle called and ordered 4 large pizza's, salads, and bread sticks, paid for them, then hung up.

"Salads? You go weird on us, Castle?"

"Nah. I promised Avery and Crawford lunch, and I don't know what they eat. Anyway, a salad won't hurt you any, Javier. Where are Beckett and Ryan?"

"Wrapping up the crime scene. They'll be back soon." At Castle's look, he explained "The suspect they went to pick up, Todd McCutcheon, was found shot to death in his apartment. Wound looks like the same caliber as the two women, and Lanie thinks he was waxed around the same time Chloe was shot out her window. They'll be back soon, which reminds me; I'm supposed to be interrogating the shit out of you now."

"Not if you're expecting a free lunch, detective. Look. I'll make it simple for you. Maya called right after I left the Housing Bookstore book signing, so it was just after one. It took me just over twenty minutes to get there and park. I went upstairs, her door was ajar, her apartment was trashed, and I found her dead on the bed. I called you and Ryan, but you guys didn't answer. I then heard noises in her living room, thought the bad guys were coming back, and grabbed the piece of shit revolver she had on her night stand."

"But Castle, you called me around 1:30. Demming shot you at 1:42 pm, right? What were you doing during those ten or twelve minutes?"

"Freaking out. Looking around. When I couldn't get you or Ryan on my cell, I started recording the crime scene before I called 9-1-1."

"You filmed another crime scene? Better hope Beckett doesn't find out, she'll kick your ass."

"I already sent her a copy. Hey! You want to see what you look like when you and Ryan bust through a door?"

"Hell, yeah. I mean, I already know I'll look terrific and scary has hell, but I'd like to see it."

Castle took out his phone, found the video, pressed the start arrow, and handed it to Esposito. He then saved his work on Beckett's computer, and e-mailed the various documents he'd created to his own account, before shutting down her computer. As he started straightening up the mess he'd made on Beckett's desk, he was smiling at Esposito's running commentary.

" … not bad, Castle. I would have made sure to look under the bed too … ok, you got it … there we are in the living room … here we come … wow, Castle, we really scared the shit out of you … cool, we are definitely bad ass … _Pinche estupido! …_ The asshole really took a shot at you … Oh, I can't believe Beckett didn't bitch slap him … what a total douchebag … you're pretty damn lucky, bro, Dumming was a pretty good with a handgun when we were in ESU … 'tough on her wardrobe', that's a great line, Castle … you sent this to Beckett?"

"Yeah."

"So, your statement is: you entered Santori's apartment illegally, looked around, finally found her dead body, forgot how to dial 9-1-1, screwed up the crime scene by stomping around like an elephant with a hard on, touched shit like you always do, pretended you were freaking Quentin Tarantino Junior, grabbed a loaded weapon with the intention of shooting the brave police officers who were in the middle of pursuing their brilliant investigation, and came close to peeing in your pants and crying like a baby when we rescued you, then finally bled all over our crime scene?"

"Well, if you want to put it in the worst possible light, then, pretty much, yeah. I came, I saw, I got shot. _Veni, vedi, shoot-ee_."

"Hey! Did the board of inquiry see this masterpiece too?"

"Absolutely. According to Aronoff, the IAD Lieutenant was more pissed off that Demming lied so badly on his statement, then she was for him shooting me." Castle sound offended.

"That sounds like Internal Affairs. They'd like to fry every cop who doesn't pick up the phone and tell them every tiny fricking detail about your partner, preferably before it even happens." His tone hinted at the bitterness of personal experience. "Can I show this to Ryan? He needs to work on his facial expressions when busting down a door. I swear, he practically looked friendly."

Castle chuckled, reaching for his phone. "Sure, Javi, I can send it to you, but **nobody else**, okay? Make sure Ryan knows too." He looked up and saw Agents Avery and Crawford approaching, as the SWAT guy stormed off towards the elevator. "Hey, guys. Good timing. Lunch should be here any minute."

"Still writing, Rick?" Crawford stopped right behind Beckett's chair, placed her hand on Castle's shoulder, and leaned over to peer at the papers still on the desk, totally invading his personal space, pressing her chest into his broad back. "Can I have a 'sneak' peek?"

Castle's glanced at the two men, surprising both Avery and Esposito into hiding their shit eating grins. "Sorry, Liz, no spoilers today. Just finished. " He gathered the remaining papers and swiveled Beckett's chair in preparation of standing. He gave the blond a blazing smile. "I promise to personally sign a copy of the magazine for you, though. Totally free of charge."

Crawford laughed. "Free of charge? Castle, who do you think you are, Pete Rose?"

"Oh, Liz, I'm _so _much bigger than Pete Rose." Innuendo was apparent with every syllable. As she chuckled, Castle reached into his pocket and answered his buzzing phone. "Castle … Hey, man … I'm good, LT, thanks for asking …. Yeah, I heard that too … That's great, LT, it's already paid for. Could you bring it up to the 4th floor? … Okay, but not like last time, please. Two piece limit … okay, four pieces, but that's my final offer … you can't do that, Officer Thomas, Esposito would shoot you … okay, see you in a minute." He stood and announced "Pizza's here."

As they started towards the break room, Esposito asked, "LT grabbed the lunch desk again?" Castle nodded, and Esposito explained to the puzzled feds. "We have an officer assigned here who always manages to work the front desk during lunch hours. He's required to escort all visitors to and from their destinations, or deliver himself. Used to play defensive end for Rutgers. Great guy, great cop, but _man, _the dude can EAT!"

Castle asked what they all wanted to drink, and started pulling their requests out of the refrigerator and handing them out. He asked, "So, Jason, Liz, how was your morning?" They both glanced at the Latino detective. "Don't worry about him, guys. He knows most of it by now."

Avery spoke. "Well, from Beckett's perspective, the situation is totally … contained. None of those involved were particularly tech savvy, or security conscious."

"Who was … never mind. I don't want to know. So, are you finished?"

Crawford answered Castle. "Pretty much. There's one more person I want to talk to, but that'll only take a second. Eew. I've never felt so … sleazy. I'm glad it didn't take long." The blond shivered. "Yechh. I feel like I need to take a shower." She looked around at three male smiles. "That wasn't an invitation, gentlemen …" then added quietly, where only Castle could hear her "… necessarily." Her smile became transfixed, and her eyes grew large, as she stared past the writer at the apparition that appeared in the door frame. "Oh … my!"

"Who's hungry?" A handsome uniformed officer stood there, all six feet, five inches, and 250 pounds of him, holding four pizza boxes and a big white bag.

Crawford's look lingered on his huge shoulders that spanned the doorway, then descended to his narrow waist, before murmuring "I am now."

For some reason, that just set Avery and Esposito off. Crawford blushed as they continued to laugh. Castle and LT pretty much ignored them as they set out the food and passed out plates. With all the pizza box tops propped open, LT asked Castle "Any of these without mushrooms?"

"What's wrong, LT, aren't you a fun guy?"

"You know, Castle, that wasn't funny the first twenty times you said it." He grabbed a couple of slices from each of the two boxes Castle indicated. "Thanks, Castle."

"Anytime Leroy. Can't you stay?"

He shook his head. "Gotta get back to the desk."

"Ok. Have a good one."

The big man sailed out of the room carrying his plateful of pizza. As he approached, the elevator door opened, disgorging Beckett and Ryan. They greeted LT, switching places with him. Esposito saw them, and shouted around a mouthful "In here, guys."

Ryan made a beeline for the kitchenette, while Beckett swung by her desk to drop off her purse and a couple of files. Ryan had already greeted everybody, sat, and grabbed a plate and a couple of slices before Beckett arrived. Castle looked at her closely, trying to think of the correct word to describe her demeanor. The boys were right. Everything about Beckett was somehow … _off. _Her entrance, her smile, her hand as it swiped hair away from her face, it was all so … _tentative._ The super-confidant, bad ass detective was feeling unsure of herself. He caught Crawford's eyes, and gave a little tilt of his head.

The agent nodded her head and called "Kate? Do you have a minute?"

Beckett nodded, looking like a deer in the headlights. Crawford quickly wiped her mouth, stood, and walked with Beckett back out into the deserted bullpen. Castle surreptitiously kept an eye on the two women, as Ryan described the crime scene and their lack of success on the local canvas. Castle'd just happened to glance back into the bullpen for probably the tenth time when Beckett's entire body went limp with relief. She then stood straighter, nodding as Crawford continued to speak, before launching herself into a hug with the shorter woman. She turned her head towards Castle, a mind melting smile plastered on her face, before stepping back and continuing her discussion with the fed.

A warm feeling filled Castle, from the center of his torso outward, filling his entire being with a slightly euphoric sense of well-being. A smile, impossible to deny, bloomed on his lips. He tried to figure out this source of joy. He was pretty sure it wasn't the pizza. Whatever the reason, it sure felt great.

He glanced back at the sound of steps entering the room. Crawford was walking around the table to resume her seat. Beckett was still out in the bullpen, her phone to her ear, a small smile on her lips, her eyes shining. He smiled back at her before she spun around and started talking on the phone.

Crawford sat in her seat to Castle's left and took a small sip from her water bottle. She then grabbed his left arm with both her hands, pulling his ear towards her mouth, and whispered "Damn, that felt _so fucking _good."

Castle turned his head, and saw a matching smile blazing on Crawford's face. He murmured, too low for the others to hear, "Still want that shower, Liz?"

"Yeah, Rick, I still do. What's your personal policy on saving water?"

"I'm _extremely _interested in conservation, and truly take the greatest pleasure in discovering and exploring our beautiful natural resources." Sex dripped from every syllable.

Her breath hitched slightly. "Yeah. Me too."

As they both noticed a silence surrounding them, they looked around at three males leering at them. Avery asked, "Are we interrupting something?"

Castle's 'Yes" was at the same time as Crawford's "No", which brought a chuckle from Ryan. The group continued eating as the discussion turned to strange crime scenes they'd each encountered. Shortly, the clicking heels of Beckett could be heard, as she strode into the break room like she owned it. "Did you guys save me any?"

Esposito nodded. "Castle bought plenty, even with LT on the lunch desk."

"Thanks, Castle." She grabbed a bottle of water, piled some salad and a couple of slices of pizza on a plate, pulled out the chair opposite Castle, and sat. Well aware of all the eyes on her, she asked "How're the ribs, Rick?" as she began to eat.

"A little achy." Castle knew she was trying to shove the others' attention off of her, so he started to describe his dramatic brush with death yesterday, which led to laughter and a general conversation of foolish situations during a breach that others had heard about.

Castle looked over at Beckett, munching her salad. He thought the change in her demeanor in just five short minutes was somehow both subtle and glaringly obvious. Her posture was more erect, her bearing calmer, her attitude once more exuding quiet confidence. It was night and day. She looked up at Castle, and the relief in her eyes was palpable. Her quick scan around the room insured that no one else was paying them any attention, and she mouthed 'Thank you' to him. At his nod, her smile warmed, and she returned to her salad.

A rapid knock on the open door caused the conversation to stop, as everyone looked up to see a pretty uniformed officer in the doorway, practically standing at attention. "You wanted to see me, Detective Beckett?"

"Yes, Anne, thanks for coming up. Uh, Liz, this is Officer Anne Hastings. Anne, Special Agent Elizabeth Crawford of the FBI." Her gaze at the pretty cop grew more intent. "You can trust her with anything."

As Hastings brow dipped in puzzlement, Crawford stood and said "Why don't you come with me, Officer Hastings."

"Oh, ma'am, I don't want to interrupt your lunch."

"No, it's okay, I was done anyway." The fed and an obviously nervous cop proceeded across the bullpen towards the conference room.

Beckett asked, getting back to business, "What did you find in the financials, Javi?"

"They were both into something. Chloe and Maya each had a cash deposit of $9500 two weeks ago on the same day. No discernible source of the money."

"Great, good job, detective."

"Thanks, boss. Hey, what can I say, I've still got it!"

Castle and Beckett, simultaneously, quipped "Try penicillin!"

Ryan grinned, then commented "It must be illegal. They both tried to stay under the $10,000 limit that makes it mandatory for the banks to report the transaction to the government."

Castle looked at the big black man. "Jason, I thought they lowered that reporting limit to $8000."

Avery smiled. "Rick, I can neither confirm nor deny that."

Beckett asked. "So, where do a high school science teacher and a struggling artist come up with that kind of money? Ryan, when McCutcheon's financials come in, could you please see if he was the source, or got a similar boost in cash?

"Sure."

Avery asked, "What did McCutcheon do for a living?"

"He tended vending machines all around the city." At Avery's puzzled look, she continued "I know! It's like a bad joke. What do a high school teacher, a high end sculptor, and a vending machine grunt have in common?"

"Ooo! I know! It's obvious, isn't it!"

Beckett deadpanned "Please, enlighten us, Castle."

"A science teacher that knows all about electronics and theoretical physics? A sculptor familiar with metallurgy, and knows her way around acytaline torches and welding equipment? A guy who's handy around moving machinery, with an unlimited number of spare parts? They were building robots!"

"Robots?"

"Yeah! It's perfect! Robots, disguised as vending machines! This could be a plot for world domination!"

Avery turned to the others, shocked almost speechless. "Is he always like this?"

Esposito shook his head, and in a fake whisper, confided "Actually, this is Castle on a _good_ day, unfortunately. He hasn't started in on aliens, spies, or the CIA yet."

Castle's grin was filled with fun. "Did you miss the part about world domination, Esposito? It could easily be any of those three, but more likely is a combination of at least two of them."

"Thank you, Castle, for your always thought provoking theories."

"Is that sarcasm I detect, Beckett? I recall some fairly outlandish theories of mine that proved to be uncannily accurate."

Beckett paused to think, which normally led to trouble for the writer. "Tell you what, Castle. I'll make you a bet. I'll bet that you can't figure out how the victims are related to each other before I do."

"What are we betting?"

"If I win, you'll do whatever I ask. If you win, same deal."

Castle's grin was predatory, almost wolfish. His eyebrow flew up. "Anything?"

"Anything that won't get you shot or maimed."

"Well, Beckett, that narrows the possibilities immeasurably. Nevertheless, I'll take your bet." He looked over at Ryan and Esposito, who were grinning unabashedly at 'Mom &amp; Dads' banter, something they hadn't experienced in months. "What if one of them comes up with it first?"

They stared at each other, then shook their heads and both rejected the idea with a "Nah."

"Hey! We resent that, Beckett. Don't you want to make the bet with us, too?"

"Esposito, you guys do what I tell you to do, anyway. Why would I bet you?"

Laughing, the group stood and started cleaning up lunch, still exchanging barbs. Shortly, Crawford appeared in the doorway, her small wheeled suitcase behind her. She leaned in. "Ready, Jason?"

"Yeah. Well, folks, it's been real."

"Agent Avery!" Beckett slid over to the big man, right hand outstretched. She shook his hand firmly. "Thank-you so much, Jason. If you ever need anything at all …"

"I'd say we were even, detective. It's been a true pleasure."

His words brought back Castle's speech to her last spring. She beamed at the writer, before sliding over to Crawford and shaking her hand warmly. "Liz, the same applies to you. If there's ever something I can do for you, don't hesitate to ask."

Crawford's smile turned sly. "I'm sure I'll think of something, Kate." She turned to the two detectives, and gave a little bow. "Detectives." She finished her turn, and her smile increased a little. "Rick."

"I'll walk you guys out." As the three started for the elevator, Castle suggested loud enough for the others to hear. "Why don't we get together for a couple drinks, end of the week? Thursday of Friday? I'm buying."

A chorus of agreements were heard, with 'buzz kill' Beckett adding the proviso "_If_ we've closed our case, Castle. Espo, you're with me."

Ryan went to his desk as Esposito and Beckett went to hers. They both sat. Beckett was amazed that her heels didn't touch the floor. She looked down and saw her raised seat keeping her feet from reaching the ground comfortably. She looked up to see the elevator doors closing in front of Castle's smirk, now disappearing like the Chesire cats. She snarled, a lioness on the savannah. "**_Castle!_**"

_NEXT CHAPTER PREVIEW: The case was over. As far as Castle was concerned, it was one of the most awesome cases he'd worked on with the team. It started horribly, of course, with him losing his friend Maya, and getting grazed by a bullet from that asshole Demming. It had ended in a double shooting, as both Beckett and he had shot past each other to wound both Kitty and Earl, the two guilty club owners. In between, Castle had followed Beckett to the coolest club ever, part circus and part strip club. He'd come up with a fantastic 'Breaking Bad' theory, which had unfortunately turned out wrong, but was still a helluva lot of fun. He'd enjoyed working with Esposito and Ryan again, exchanging one-liners with them every chance they'd had. He'd made a wager with the freer and more playful Beckett, which he now strongly suspected she allowed him to win. He'd managed to do some unsolicited writing when composing the third and fourth entries into the New Yorker serial 'The Fading Blue Line', which had stunned Gina the bad witch speechless (almost worth more to him than the obscene amount of money the magazine had promised) Last, and best of all, he'd buried his nemesis Tom Demming. The only thing that tool had to look forward to was years and years of the most boring, tedious, odious policework in New York as a common patrolman. Certainly, he wasn't going to get much sympathy from anyone at the 12__th__, in Homicide or Robbery. It was also a safe bet any future family reunions of his were going to suck. _


End file.
